And You Think It's Complicated Now
by 9548
Summary: Impulsive actions lead to questionable decisions that have consequences...
1. And You Think It's Complicated Now

**AND YOU THINK IT'S COMPLICATED NOW  
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**An Impulse**

Olivia's phone buzzes in her pocket as Walter takes the last of his prescribed and legal medication for the night. Checking the call-back number before answering, she frowns in concern.

"Dunham."

"Agent Dunham, it's Lin... Agent Lee... Lincoln, from the other side," then she hears muffled muttering. "Hi."

"Agent Lee, is everything alright?"

"Uh. Yeah. I'm at The Bridge. I was just dropping off some files from our recent joint-op and was wooondering..." he trails off. She detects a note of sheepish embarrassment in his tone, but couldn't really be sure. "Actually, I was wondering if you had a spare hour or so."

She looks around and found Walter sitting up, right in the middle of his bed, with blankets folded up to his lap, flicking through the odd-numbered channels on his new television. He barely notes her presence. She checks her watch, "Um, sure. Did you need me to look over the report?"

"The report? No! Liv- She- It's done," he clears his throat. "It's actually a little stupid, and you can definitely say no, but-"

"Agent Lee-"

"Lincoln. And I was wondering if you maybe wanna show me what kinda bars you have on _your _side."

For a long moment Olivia doesn't know what to say. There are a hundred reasons why she should say no, and they were all there in her head, but she is so startled by the invitation that she is unable to focus on one or two, and come out and say it. "Uh, yeah, I suppose-"

"Turn the light off as you go, dear," Walter sleepily tells her.

"Good night, Walter. See you tomorrow," she tells the old man, then to Lincoln, "I'm at the lab. If you can wait..."

"Sure. I'll wait."

**Impulsive Actions Lead To Questionable Decisions**

"So, what am I gettin' you?" he asks with a cocky grin that she can't ever relate to the other Agent Lee.

"Double shot of whisky," at the surprise that crosses his face, she raises an eyebrow. "What?"

Half a dozen shots later and a few more bottles of beer, Agent Dunham is a little less guarded, a tad more talkative and all too ready with her smile. Lincoln himself is more than halfway to being drunk, but he notices that she's more like Liv now. The way she cocks her head to the side, and that mischievous glint in her eyes even as she gives back exactly, if not more, than what he throws at her. What started out as an impulsive invitation, a challenge, has actually become fun.

Lincoln almost slips off his stool as he gets up. Olivia makes a grab for him, laughing. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm great. I'm perfect," he ignores her disbelieving smirk and reaches for her hand. "C'mon, let's dance."

"Dance? Here, now?"

"Oh, don't tell me you don't dance," he gives her a disappointed look.

"No, I can dance," she tugs at his hand and points to a small space between the tables and the old juke box. "The question is, can you - drunk as you are?"

"I'm not drunk," Olivia's hand is smaller than he expected, he peers at it as he tucks it against his chest. Liv's hand must also be small. Strange, Lincoln thought to himself with a smile, small hands and big guns. "Really, I'm not drunk."

"So, you go drinking and dancing often after a case?" she repeats it twice before he looks up at her.

"Ah, we used to. Charlie's married now. It's that honeymoon stage, I guess, and Mrs Bug Lady-"

"Bug Lady?" she snorts. "That's mean."

"It's not- and you're laughing, so you're mean too!"

"What about _her_?" Olivia is still smiling, but he can see an edge has crept into it, even with so much alcohol. "Does she dance too?"

Lincoln smiles ruefully, "She dances with Frank."

"Frank," a small pause, and then she leans back, dangerously close to making him fall. "And how do you feel about that?"

"How do I feel about what?" as she rolls her eyes, he continues. "I don't feel anything about anything. _Anyone_. Now, let's just dance. I don't wanna talk anymore."

Midway through a third song, she looks up at him. His eyes are closed. The man has ridiculously long lashes, she thinks to herself. Her eyes drift lower and she tilts her head to the side. He has dimples; she'd noticed it from the other Agent Lee when he'd yelled at her.

"You're humming," Lincoln opens his eyes. "And you're staring."

"Am not."

"Are too."

She crinkles her nose up at him, "What are you? Five?"

"No. Which is a very good thing," then he bends his head and kisses her. For the second time that night Olivia is blindsided. She starts to move back in protest, but he holds her in place. "It's just a kiss."

"It's not a good idea."

"Do you have a Frank too?"

"No," she shakes her head. "I don't have anyone."

"Then one more kiss," he grins, perhaps already deeming the battle won.

And for the first time in three years Olivia defiantly ignores the voices in her head. She kisses him back. Slow at first, then deeper and more urgent.

He stops shuffling them along to the music. The alcohol, spurred on by her kisses – yes, plural – has definitely reached his head and is making it difficult for him to feel his feet. Lincoln stumbles backwards and lands on another bar stool at an empty table.

"Enough?" she asks, face flushed.

"We don't have that word in my universe," he whispers in her ear trailing kisses down her neck.

She laughs, eyes bright, happy, "You really think that line's going to work for you?" in answer, he strokes the side of her face, and gently runs his thumb down her lips and kisses her again.

_Olivia._

She lifts her head up and turns, "What?"

"What what?"

"Someone called- Did you hear that?" she looks behind her, then around the almost empty bar.

"Olivia," she turns back to him. "I didn't hear anything. But maybe it's time to go?"

For a moment she just looks at him, he can practically hear the gears turning. She cocks her head to the side and bites her lip. And perhaps that reminds her of the kiss, because she smiles and raises an eyebrow. "What time do you have to get back?"

**Questionable Decisions Have Consequences**

A phone is ringing. No. Her head hurts, and maybe it's her ears that are ringing. She cracks open an eye. The room spins to the left. There's definitely something ringing.

"Peter, where's my phone?"

"Lincoln," comes the muffled reply from under a pillow. "And it's probably under the bed."

But the ringing had stopped, and so in between willing herself to move and not actually moving, Olivia falls back to sleep.

_Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock._

"There's someone at the door," Lincoln pushes himself up to an elbow.

"What time is it?" Olivia groans.

"Two," jerking upright, she looks at the windows, and sure enough, a gap in the curtains show a sunny day outside. Lincoln continues, "The sunlight is a different color here."

_Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang._

"Damn it," Olivia throws the sheets off her and is about to storm to the door when she realizes she's naked. "Oh."

Lincoln grins. She glares at him.

"Not a word. Not one word," she grabs the nearest shirt on the floor and throws it on. She can hear muffled voices outside, and a key scraping the lock.

The door swings open just as she's about to reach for it.

"Olivia!" Astrid exclaims. "I- We were worried. You weren't answering your-" she cuts herself off as she notices Agent Dunham's unusual state of undress. "Ah."

"We called a dozen times, and naturally when you didn't answer, even Col. Broyles agreed we could use-" her legs are paler than her hands. It's the suits. Agent Lee realizes a second too late what he'd been staring at. He snaps his eyes back up to see her glaring at him. He turns red. Then she's blushing. What's _that_ about.

"Well, this is awkward," a familiar voice behind her says.

"Lincoln," Olivia snaps in warning.

"Yes?"

"Yes?'

Astrid starts to laugh.


	2. Uh Oh, Here It Comes

**UH-OH, HERE IT COMES**

**An Afternoon After**

The drive back to Liberty Island is an uncomfortable affair, at least for three people. It is all Astrid can do to not start laughing again. Olivia stares morosely out the window, and the two Lincolns in the backseat also remain quiet.

_Olivia. Remember._

She squirms in her seat for a moment, then she turns to the Lincoln seating behind Astrid, "I'd really rather not."

"Excuse me?" he asks, lazily looking to the other Lincoln for explanation. "Rather not what?"

But Olivia just shakes her head and turns back in her seat. After a few more minutes of awkward silence, she murmurs to Astrid, "What exactly is the Event this time?"

"You are," at her startled look, Astrid shrugs. "Walter had some sort of epiphany this morning and had wanted to talk to you. Something about astral planes and ethereal bodies trying to communicate through mirrors, but you didn't answer your phone. We all tried – no response," Astrid tries to contain her amusement. "So we thought you'd been kidnapped."

"Again," Agent Lee adds. At this, Olivia shoots Astrid a questioning look. Astrid shrugs, indicating he'd been briefed on something more than shapeshifters now.

"Again?" Lincoln's eyebrows rose, and with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, he leans toward Olivia and asks flirtatiously, "You get _kidnapped_ often?"

"Coming from a man belonging to a division that successfully abducted her," Agent Lee snaps at his counterpart. "That's a little insensitive don't you think?"

"Wait a minute! What are you- You think I would-" the headache that had been hovering just beyond the pleasurable memories of the previous night descends with a vengeance. "What is he talking about?"

"Nothing," her eyes meet his, and he sees fury in them, mixed with an anguish that makes him blink and sit back. The look is gone in a flash, but not for one moment does it occur to him that he'd imagined it. "It's best not to talk about it here, now."

**Shuffling Back, Then Slightly Forward**

She escorts him through this side's various checkpoints and back to The Bridge. Surprisingly it is her who initiates the conversation.

"Look, this isn't something- I haven't done this-" John Scott flashes through her mind, and she sighs. "Whatever happened isn't going to happen again."

"Because it's a bad idea?"

"Yes," she says. Then she cocks her head to the side and asks with genuine curiosity, "Don't you think?"

"Maybe," he fights the urge to reach up and touch her hair, her face. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he grins at her. "But you had fun right? The dancing was good?"

"The dancing?" looking away, she rubs her nose to hide her smile. "It was passable, I suppose."

"Passable?" in protest, Lincoln's voice rise to squeak. "See there, that's a challenge. Now you'll wish you didn't say that."

Olivia laughs. She points to his side's door, shakes her head and wordlessly walks away.

"Passable!" Lincoln calls to her, "Just wait! I got moves you-" he stops as a scientist in his white suit glare at him over his clipboard. "I dance good," he reassures the man.

**We're All Just A Sucker For Something**

They are standing at the kerb by the car she'd left behind next to the bar the previous night. Agent Lee had gone inside one of the shops to buy something for Walter.

"What happened to 'not my type'?" Astrid leans against the car, absently watching the people hurrying past.

Olivia isn't sure if she knows the answer. What did happen last night? Or more to the point, what was she thinking? She usually prides herself in being in control. She sees the pattern, the bigger picture, better than anyone she knows and willingly makes decisions, even at the cost of her personal life, that attempt to avert the chaos that is always waiting to erupt. The previous night will have repercussions before this war, this truce – she corrects herself, is over.

She turns away from the crowd just as a man in a grey suit and fedora walks by. "He asked me to dance," she smiles sadly at Astrid. "I like dancing."

_Olivia._

Across the street, a bald man tilts his head to the side as Olivia steps away from the car and looks around in confusion. She gestures for Astrid to wait for Agent Lee and drive back to Boston with him so she herself can go on ahead to the Lab. She feels the world shifting to the left, and it has nothing to do with whisky.

**Flesh-Eating Virus v DNA-Altering Virus**

Olivia is exhausted. Three days of chasing leads and suspects, of talking and writing, analysing and reporting, of saving lives and taking it. She's also hungry, she realizes distractedly as the sergeant swipes her ID into the slot. The red glow of the scanner light makes her a little dizzy. There's no way she'll make it back to Boston tonight, but the Massive Dynamic apartments will do. She checks her watch. She's an hour or so from food, a drink, and sleep.

Out of the three though, she decides she's most looking forward to her bed.

"Olivia," her steps falter as she hears his voice. "I mean, Agent Dunham. What are you doing here?"

"Agent Lee," she says politely, and barely holds in a sigh as she sees the other Dunham. "Just entering a case-file into the system, you?"

With a cocky grin, Liv replies instead, "Us too. Another criminal put to justice and millions of lives saved."

"Actually, thanks in part to you," two identical eyebrows rise, and Lincoln fights the urge to blush. He clears his throat. "I mean your file on Conrad."

"Oh. Right," she nods in acknowledgement. "Glad it helped."

Olivia begins to type a brief summary of her most recent case. In a slightly paranoid part of her mind she wonders if she needs to change her password yet again. She tries not to pay too much attention to the two Agents from the other side in front of her.

Liv rocks slightly on her feet as she enters her report, humming a U2 song under her breath. Olivia barely stops herself from rolling her eyes. Lincoln looks up and grins, he nudges a small punnet of white strawberries toward her. Without thinking, she reaches for one and pops it in her mouth.

The humming stops.

There's an expectant silence in front of her, but she steadfastly ignores it. Lincoln does the same. When she is finished with her report, she quietly bids them both a pleasant night and leaves without a backward glance.

Lincoln follows her with his eyes, until Liv leans close and whispers, "What was all that about?"

He jumps. "What," he smiles, but avoids her eyes. "Nothing."

"Your nothing is never 'nothing'," her voice now has a slightly possessive undercurrent to it, one he'd been waiting to hear for a very long time. "You two friends now?"

"Are you jealous?"

She laughs, honestly surprised. "You want me to be jealous?"

"No," he lies, though maybe the lie isn't fully a lie now. "I just meant- Well, you have Frank-"

"What does Frank have to do with this?"

"-and Charlie has Bug- has Mona," he continues, pretending not to hear her question. He shrugs, "I dunno, I do have friends you don't know about."

"Huh. Really?" she aims for a light-hearted tone but fails. After a pause, Liv frowns, "But _her_?"


	3. Tangled And Entangled

**TANGLED AND ENTANGLED**

(This story came out this way, and there wasn't anything I could do...)

**Here, Now**

Olivia unclips her holster from her belt and places it on her desk. She drapes her suit jacket over a chair and walks tiredly to the cabinet in the kitchen where the whisky is. She knows she should eat something first, but the idea of cooking is just too much after the day she's had. Days. Weeks, even.

Whisky in hand, she eyes two slices of bread for a hint of Gus - the sentient fungus' cousin, out for revenge perhaps, and then drops them in the toaster. She looks around her small kitchen, unsettled. There is a kind of hush, as though time had stopped and she's standing between one moment and the next. She looks down at her glass, and tilts it. The amber liquid shifts with the movement, and she releases the breath she realizes she's holding. Shaking her head at her momentary flight of fancy, she takes a sip. It's not quite nine, she contemplates calling Rachel, and maybe Ella's still awake.

Another name slips into her mind. Lincoln. She jumps as the toaster pops, then laughs at her foolishness. Obviously she can't call him. And even if it is possible, it'd be a bad idea. Her heart skips a beat as her phone vibrates in her pocket.

"Dunham."

**There, Now**

Liv peers through the kitchen windows at the crowd in her mother's backyard. Everybody seems to be having a good time. She can see her mother in deep conversation with Mona, Diane Broyles and two couples from down the street. Frank is chatting with Broyles, and two other virologists and their partners at one table, while Charlie and Lincoln are busy being the clowns that they are at another table, surrounded by junior agents and a few more of Frank's friends and co-workers. By the way Broyles keep shooting them bland looks they're probably getting a little too detailed in their description of their so-called heroics. Liv shakes her head in amusement.

She looks down at the unfinished glass of champagne she's holding, tilting it side to side. She's getting married, who'd have thought. Olivia Dunham – married. Absently, she takes a sip of the golden liquid, the bitter taste and the bubbles make her grimace, although perhaps the expression is more from the thought of children, and never having any. No matter what anyone says, the chance of her having VPE, as Rachel did, is much too high, and it's a risk she's not willing to take. Frank is aware of course, and fully supports her decision. But still-

"Liv," and he's there. "What're you doing all alone in here? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," she reaches for him, and he comes and holds her close. Liv leans into him, finding comfort in the solid feel of his chest. Whatever happens, Frank will always be Frank, and he'll always be just hers. Unlike certain people she knows. "Let's just fly to Miami now and get married."

He laughs and looks down at her with adoration. "That should go down well with your mother," then looking out the window, his grin widens. "Not to mention your boss. And come to think of it, my boss too."

She gives him one of her irresistible pouts, but before she can say anything, her mother walks in and shoos them back out of the kitchen to mingle with their guests.

**Fear And Crossing Over In A Harvard Courtyard**

Agent Tim had tried not to sound anxious over the phone, but Olivia knows to hurry anyway. When Walter gets in one of his moods, nobody else but her can calm him, not even Astrid who spends far more time with him. Olivia had long ago reasoned that it had something to do with his subconscious guilt at having experimented on her when she was a child. She'd found out accidentally through one of their cases. She hasn't really confronted him properly about it yet, and he has yet to apologize.

After all these years, Olivia is still quite hesitant to dig deep and bring up anything related to Walter's dead son, Peter, and the other boy too, for fear of driving him back to insanity. He is essential to their investigations, to saving two universes, so she has no choice but to put the childhood abuse at the back of her mind, for now.

Her phone rings again, just as she's parking her car.

"Getting out of the car now, I'll be there in a few minutes," things are quiet in this part of the campus, only a handful of students hurrying down the barely lit pathways. It's starting to get cold, winter is coming and she'll need to get her coat dry-cleaned one of these days. "Just make sure he doesn't have the means to harm himself."

Easier said than done, she knows. Walter can turn anything and everything in the lab into some kind of tool to-

A grey flash to her right catches her attention. And there next to a Black Walnut tree, suddenly illuminated by a lit window, a man in a grey suit stares back at her. Something about the man made her want to reach for her gun. As Olivia starts to walk toward him, the bald man turns his head ever so slightly and after a moment she realizes he is looking intently at something behind her.

Someone. The figure steps into the light. No, it is _something_, after all. What light there is, make the shapeshifter's skin glisten as though wet. It takes a step toward her. This time she definitely pulls her gun, and fast. A group of kids round the corner, laughing and shoving each other, oblivious to the danger awaiting them. Olivia's mind settles into an alert calmness before rapid action and violence. She automatically aims for the shapeshifter's head. Seemingly aware of her intent, it whips around and runs off into a darkened path between two buildings. She runs after it, with barely a thought for the grey-suited man. Somehow she knows he is a mystery to be solved another day.

The shapeshifter is just ahead of her, she suspects an ambush of sorts, but she is committed to the chase. They run through small alleyways in between buildings, past statues of dead professors, and courtyard after courtyard. They burst through a small knot of students walking from a library. It crashes against a student who falls and hits his head against a bench. His friends then attempt to block her, but Olivia is already waving her gun and yelling, "FBI, coming through!"

She's used to chasing suspects. She runs most nights before bed. But tonight Olivia is tired. She feels the weariness grabbing at her. Her feet are turning to lead, and it's becoming harder for her to lift them. She feels iron bands tightening around her lungs, and her heart is in her mouth. She slows down. Fear lances down her spine as she realizes the shapeshifter is also slowing down and throwing her looks over its shoulder. It stops abruptly and faces her.

The large courtyard is empty. She is tempted to sink into the soft grass already wet with dew. Having stopped, she feels the cool night air through her sweat-soaked shirt and jacket. She tries to lift her arms but they waver alarmingly in front of her, unable to take proper aim. The shapeshifter approaches. It opens its mouth as though to say something.

_Olivia. Olivia, I'm here._

Her arms jerk with surprise and she pulls the trigger. A dark stain slowly appears on its left shoulder. It looks down grimly, and then with a snarl hurls itself at her. Too fast, her next shot skims over its other shoulder even as it tackles her to the ground. They exchange punches and kicks, and at some point she drops her gun. Its translucent skin makes it appear less solid, but each punch it delivers drives the breath out of her. Olivia smacks her fist at its neck, but it moves quickly out of the way and she just manages to clip its jaw. Her momentum brings her to her knees, while the shapeshifter dances away. It looks around for her gun.

Her only hope now is for someone to have heard the gunshots, or for those kids to have called university security. But if they don't get here within the next few seconds, everything is lost. It reaches down for something on the ground. With one last burst of energy Olivia springs for its legs driving it back down to the ground. She tangles herself around its legs but it twists around her arms, and as she looks up, it slams the butt of her gun into her head.

_Olivia._

It's that man in her dreams. She can just see him, there, standing above her. She feels a warm trickle down her right eye. She tries to reach up, but her arm refuses to move. Someone else is hovering above her, but Olivia's vision seems to be failing. She hears an intake of breath, a preparation of sorts, and Olivia knows she has reached the end.

_Olivia._

Everything glimmers. She hears her own gun going off, but it doesn't seem as important as the dancing light flickering at the edges of everything. Then even as she wonders if it means she has transitioned into the afterlife, pain rips through her, and then again as she crashes down onto a wooden floor.

**Gate Crashing The End**

Tears runs down her face, mingled with the blood she realizes is dripping from the cut on her head. She had also been shot on the left shoulder. Loud barking echoes painfully in her head, and then a scream.

"What the hell-"

"Agent Francis, call for a medic, immediately," then a strong hand is pressing on her shoulder. "Her head is bleeding too, someone get some towels."

"What's the matter?" she recognizes this voice. It's her own. "How did she-"

"Liv?" Lincoln. It's him. What is he doing here? She opens her mouth to ask, but something in her throat makes her cough, and the pain from that is more than she could take. Agent Broyles is here though, pressing hard on her shoulders. If he's here and is alive, then she must also still be alive. She turns blurry eyes to the other man as he gasps out her name. "Olivia!"

He grabs her right hand, squeezing tight. Through the numbness, she feels his touch. She blinks her eyes rapidly to try to clear it. "Lin- Lincoln?"

"Shh, it's ok. It's ok. We got you," he glances up to Broyles, then to someone else. "Charlie, the medics?"

"ETA six minutes," Charlie? Charlie's dead. She must have said the last bit out loud because he shakes his head at her. "I'm still alive, kiddo. And so will you be once we get you sorted, okay? You're gonna be fine."

"What happened? Who did this to you?" there is a dangerous edge to the other Olivia's tone, but her hand shakes as she passes the towels to some other man who'd started poking at the wound on Olivia's head. This time the pain barely registers. She gives up trying to clear her eyes and just keeps them shut. She's exhausted, surely she can sleep now. "No. No, stay awake!"

**A Mother's Nightmare**

The front door opens and a woman who had been seeing off some neighbors re-enter her house. Within seconds her world is changed forever. On the floor is her daughter, blood pouring down her face from a large cut on her forehead, and more blood soaking through a towel on her shoulder. She's pale and barely conscious. Barely alive. "Olive?"


	4. Night And Day

**NIGHT AND DAY**

She is standing in front of the door to Dr Bishop's Harvard lab, trying hard to ignore the trepidation she feels at having to be back here, after all that has happened. She frowns when she realizes she is fidgeting with the button of her jacket. Two students walk by and she absently looks up, catching them sizing her up. When their eyes reach hers, she raises an eyebrow and grins cockily at them, making them turn red. Confidence moderately restored, she pushes into the lab.

**Let's Call The Whole Thing Off**

Ella Fitzgerald is singing from one of the offices to the side, and Gene is contentedly nosing the hay in her room. She can smell bacon cooking from the back, and so quietly makes her way there. Walter is telling somebody the tricks to making banana bread just the way they do in the shops. When he hears her footsteps, the old man turns.

"Olivia-" but he stops abruptly, and his welcoming smile quickly changes into a furious snarl. "You!" then he is flying at her with a spatula.

"Dr Bishop!" Liv yells, jumping back and tripping over a stack of books on the floor. "Hey, stop!"

"Walter!" faster than he'd ever moved in his life, Agent Lee wraps his arms around Walter's middle, barely holding him back from beating Olivia with his wooden spoon. How is he going to report this to Agent Broyles? "Dr Bishop, why- What is going on?"

Astrid walks in to Walter screaming incomprehensible abuse to an Olivia that is on all fours on the floor with books scattered all around her. Agent Lee, his glasses askew on his face, is doing all he can to stop the mad scientist from attacking her.

"Walter! What's going on?" she echoes Lincoln. "I'm sure Olivia didn't mean to trip on your books, I'll clean it all up. Now stop it!"

"It's not Olivia! _She's_ not Olivia!" Walter screams, gesturing at the woman who has managed to finally stand. "What have you done to our Olivia this time?"

The blonde woman rubs her butt, smooths down her hair, and adjusts her jacket before replying. She flicks a glance at Astrid, but maintains her attention at Walter. "She was attacked last night. Here. Your side. Then somehow she crossed over to my- She's currently in hospital over there, receiving the best care our side has to offer. I'm here to find out who attacked her, and why."

"Olivia was attacked?" Agent Lee lets Walter go. "Who-"

"It was _that man's_ shapeshifters!" Walter cries, as Astrid takes the spatula from him. "She never came last night. Agent Tim and I waited and waited. You! You left her there, alone, where _he_ can get to her quicker!"

"Lincoln is with her," Liv says shortly, mouth twitching and annoyance briefly flashing across her eyes. "And my mother."

"But is she okay? What happened? Was she badly hurt?" Astrid puts herself between Liv and Walter. "Can she be transferred back here?"

"It's probably best if she just stays there until she recovers. It shouldn't take too long," Liv can feel herself starting to calm down. She'd forgotten how this side's Astrid had that effect on the people around her. She smiles at the woman appreciatively.

Walter, still muttering about shapeshifters and Mata Haris, walks around the counter and turns the makeshift stove off.

"Was it shapeshifters that attacked her?" Agent Lee asks, wiping his glasses with a blue handkerchief from his pocket. Without his glasses, and his suit, he could be her Lincoln. "What purpose could they have from taking her out?"

"Well, she's Olivia," Astrid shrugs. And even Liv can see how that pretty much covers it.

"She'd been hit in the head," Liv gestures to her own head, remembering all the blood. She tries to contain a shiver of revulsion. Not pleasant to see yourself all bloody and barely hanging on to life. "She'd also been shot. Left shoulder," to Walter, she continues, hoping he'd answer. "How did she manage to cross over?"

"Are you spying for him again?"

Astrid sighs exasperatedly, "Walter, enough. Please?"

"You and Olivia are more than two different sides of the same coin. I theorize that because of that and her latent abilities-"

"Abilities?" Agent Lee frowns in puzzlement. "What abilities?"

"Oh, didn't you know?" Liv smirks. "You work with a bona fide superhero. I'm sure there'll be comic books about her one day."

Walter ignores them both and continues, "-at the moment of greatest danger, she simply... moved down that line that connects her essence with yours, and was there, where you were."

"Huh," Liv nods, only vaguely understanding. Then turning more serious, unbuttons her jacket. "And contrary to your belief, Dr Bishop, that tech you recovered from a shapeshifter doesn't belong specifically to us, at least not from any of the usual recognizable sources. There is somewhat of a similarity in its design to the Machine, and Col. Broyles has assigned some of our science and tech personnel to work quietly on it."

"And you trust those people?" Agent Lee looks at her guardedly.

"We've got to trust someone, sometime," Liv shrugs, remembering her conversation with the other Olivia about it. "If they prove to be untrustworthy..."

"I'm going to call Agent Broyles," Astrid walks away.

"Hurry and do that, dear," Walter calls after her. "Then let's have breakfast."

Liv isn't sure if she's invited to the meal, but Walter, still glaring somewhat, points her to a small stack of plates and beakers with Gene's milk.

**Under A Blanket Of Blue**

Someone's drawing circles on the back of her hand. It's sending tiny tingles up her otherwise numb arm. She realizes she has been trying to turn her hand to catch the fingers for some time now, but her hand isn't paying her any attention.

Olivia frowns, "Peter?"

"Lincoln," he says softly. "But if you keep calling me Peter, I just might consider changing my name, though Peter Lee doesn't nearly have the same awesome ring to it as Lincoln Lee."

Olivia smiles. Of course. Lincoln. She turns her head and opens her eyes slowly. He's sitting at her bedside, looking pale and tired. His hair looks to be spiky more from having run his hand through it in frustration rather than product. She wonders at that. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you to wake up," he promptly replies.

"Oh," she licks her lips in confusion. "But why- Why aren't you in bed?"

A strangled splutter comes from the corner of the room behind Lincoln. Olivia shifts to get a better look as Lincoln slowly shakes his head. She winces at the dull throb of pain from her left shoulder, but freezes as the other man in the room walks over to her bed. "Charlie."

"Hello," this Charlie has a scar down his left cheek. His grin is more irreverent, but the teasing glint in his eyes is the same. "Am I interrupting something?"

Lincoln snaps something at him, but suddenly, the memory of the attack is streaming into Olivia's consciousness. She gulps for air as it all happens again, the chase and the fight, the gun coming down to smash into her head. She twists her hand from Lincoln's and reaches for her head. Something is wrapped around it. Panicking, she clumsily tries to rip the bandages off. Her left shoulder burns, and that arm is worse than the other.

Charlie calls out something to someone outside the room, while Lincoln grabs her hand and mutters soothing words that are, for the moment, unfathomable to her. The shapeshifter in her memory aims her own gun at her. Off to the side of the dark courtyard, the bald man in grey watches. "Help. Help me!"

Then everything goes fuzzy. A monitor above her head echoes the rapid beating of her heart. A nurse peers down at her, a syringe in his hand. She's in hospital. In the other universe. A new kind of terror turns her cold as she recollects her previous abduction, and of the people in white injecting different kinds of torture into her blood stream. She fights anew, and Lincoln barely avoids a fist.

Security runs into the room to help contain her, closely followed by a woman with three cups of tea.

"What's happening? What's wrong?" Marilyn Dunham's anxious voice cuts through the alarms, the brisk medical discussion between the nurses and doctor over her, and Lincoln pleading for her to settle down.

Olivia looks at the end of her bed, eyes wild, gasping for breath. There, the woman stands - fading blonde hair, blue eyes full of concern. "Mom?"


	5. An Interlude Of Sorts

**AN INTERLUDE OF SORTS**

**Inching Forward**

It is the silence that wakes her. Gentle and warm, peaceful. Olivia snuggles down into the pillow, eyes squinting open. Sunrise. She smiles softly. A breeze sweeps in through the open window, parting the curtains open. The early morning sun lights up the room and with a gasp, Olivia struggles upright. Nausea engulfs her as the bed she's on spins around on an altogether random revolution.

"Olivia. Olive," comforting arms anchor her. "Shh, it's okay. You're okay."

"Mom?" Olivia leans into the woman's embrace. Breathing her in, remembering her smell, gone for so very long. With a sob, she pushes away from the hug. "No. No, you're not my mother."

"Oh, sweetheart-" Marilyn Dunham doesn't know quite what to say. She reaches up, brushing blonde hair away from a face full of sorrow and fear. She shakes her head and fights her own tears though a few escape anyway.

Olivia takes a deep breath, and then another. She squeezes the woman's hand tight once, and then lets her go. Wiping tears from her face, she whispers, "What happened? Where am I?"

"Sweetheart-" Olivia wraps her arms around herself. "We're in my house. In Tarrytown. New York?" Olivia nods, the barest twitch of a smile ghosting over her face at the question. Marilyn continues, a hardness creeping into her tone. "Someone hit you on the head, and then shot you. You were in hospital for three days. Your wounds have been sealed and cauterized, though the doctor warned against any extraneous activities. Scans of your head were clear, but because of the... Confusion the other day, he'd wanted you to stay in. But Oli- Liv decided it's safer- that it's best you recuperated here instead."

Usually remembering everything down to the finest detail, having the events of the last few days all mixed up in her head, with unreliable bits added in, unnerved Olivia. She rubs her left shoulder, marvelling at the advancement in medical technology here. Frowning, she looks up, "How did I get here?"

"Well, according to Walter, our essences are connected," Liv drawls from the doorway. She's holding a steaming cup of coffee and is still wearing a Northwestern tshirt and faded blue yoga pants, both of which Olivia recognizes as also being in her drawer at home. The red haired Olivia stifles a yawn, "I'm really not sure how happy I am about that. Wait. No. Actually, I _am_ sure I'm not happy about it at all."

"Olivia!" Marilyn exclaims admonishingly.

But Olivia ignores the other woman's sarcasm for the moment, "Is that coffee?"

"Yes. Astrid gave it to me."

Marilyn eyes the two for a second, then shakes her head in bewilderment. "Alright, why don't I make breakfast?" giving Olivia's hand a reassuring pat, she tells her not-daughter, "You'll feel much better after a proper breakfast rather than just coffee."

Olivia wanted to protest, but Liv, grinning behind her cup, ushers her mother out.

"Tell me again, how did I get here?"

"Fringe Division ambulance," at Olivia's impatient glare, Liv rolls her eyes. She saunters into the room, taking a taunting sip of coffee, then settles herself into the chair near the foot of the bed where Marilyn had kept her vigil over Olivia. "As I was saying, Walter believes we're connected - you, me, and countless other instances of ourselves across the different universes."

"You spoke to Walter? When? He doesn't like you much," obviously time hadn't stopped while she'd been unconscious.

"Uh, yeah, I know," Liv frowns into her cup. "Do you want me to finish or not?" At Olivia's assent, she continues. "So, you being you," and here the smirk that grates on Olivia's nerves appear on her face. "You're the only one, that we know of anyway, who can actually take advantage of the connection," she waves her cup, mouth twitching, as Olivia tries to interrupt again. "When you were attacked, your fear and your latent abilities from the Cortexiphan trials - Walter's words - brought you here. Like magic. Or whatever," she pauses to take another sip, but keeps her appraising eyes on Olivia. "You really don't remember how you did it?"

Olivia leans back against the headboard, after a moment of consideration she shakes her head. The memories of the night of her attack are rearranging themselves into a less chaotic muddle in her head, but how is she supposed to remember the means of crossing universes without a bridge when she'd only inadvertently done it while being barely conscious? "Did they find out what happened?"

"I went to your side, with permission from my Broyles and then yours, to help with the investigation. Some kids at the university reported a disturbance in one of the courtyards near a library. A gunshot was heard, but by the time security turned up, there was nobody there. They put it down as some kinda prank. They know otherwise now. Video surveillance was mostly useless, a few frames showed a man being chased by a woman – you, presumably, but no other identifiers."

"It was a shapeshifter," Liv raises an eyebrow, but Olivia is staring out the window and didn't notice. She's seeing again the glistening skin of her attacker. Then another detail settles in place. "There was someone else there though- a man, Caucasian, bald, in a grey suit."

"Huh. A lecturer?"

"No," Olivia bites a lip. "I don't think so. He was just... There."

"So, we're looking for a shapeshifter who has it in for you and a bald man in a grey suit who likes to watch?" Liv's tone implies how ludicrous the whole thing sounds, but both of them knew that nothing is impossible when it comes to the kind of crimes they are asked to solve on a daily basis. Before they can discuss anything else, Marilyn calls them to breakfast.

**Coffee More Than Bacon**

"She's hurt, stop being so rude," Marilyn whispers to her daughter.

Liv gives a sharp laugh, "She's tougher than she looks, mom. Trust me."

"Still, I want you to be nice," but Liv just grins at her. The older Dunham purses her lips.

Olivia walks into the kitchen, and any awkwardness is forgotten as she spots the newly-cleaned coffee machine. She doesn't say anything until she's had at least three sips of the dark liquid.

"Bacon and eggs on toast," Marilyn places two mostly-identical plates in front of the two mostly- identical women in her kitchen. "Grilled onions, tomatoes, and mushrooms too, if you want."

"I like mushrooms," Olivia states, her dark, mournful eyes on Marilyn.

"Do you now," Liv smirks. But at her mother's glower, she reluctantly reaches over and passes the plate of mushrooms to Olivia who barely restrains herself from sticking out her tongue.

Such a childish impulse reminds her of Ella, who really isn't much of a child now. Sometimes her young niece behaves more maturely than her mother. Olivia smiles gently, transforming her face for a moment. "Ella likes mushrooms too."

Liv starts to cough so Marilyn passes her a glass of grapefruit juice, then she turns curious eyes to Olivia, "Ella?"

Olivia immediately realizes her mistake. Civilians aren't supposed to know about the existence of the other universe. Even within Fringe Division, both in her universe and here, the knowledge has been limited to a very select few. Her coming here the way she did might have been accidental and unavoidable, and therefore within this side of justifiable, but this mistake certainly won't be.

"Well-" she clears her throat and turns to Liv who stares fixedly out the window. The Rachel in this universe obviously doesn't have a daughter named Ella. "Ah, she's- She's just someone I, um, know."

"Oh," Marilyn momentarily looks bemused. She looks as though she means to ask more questions when a com-link beeps a call in the corner. "Finish your breakfast."

As her mother answers her call, Liv hisses furiously at Olivia, "What were you thinking? No. Were you thinking _at all_?"

"I'm sorry," Olivia helplessly shrugs her shoulder, waving a shaky hand in Marilyn's direction. "It's disorienting- I can't... It won't happen again."

"It better not, or we're both going to get fired," Liv growls. "And just so you know, my sister died giving birth to a little girl, and _she_ didn't survive either."

Olivia covers her mouth in horror. A world without Rachel and Ella – they're both cursed. Liv gets up from the table and walks out into the backyard. She hears Marilyn's dog bark a greeting, and Liv murmuring a response. A few minutes pass, then she takes a deep breath and follows the other her outside.

**Two Versus Who**

****The dog is there, gnawing lazily on a bone, but Liv has disappeared. Olivia stands there for a moment enjoying the warmth of the sun and the suburban calm. She could get used to this. She doesn't need to go to work today - someone else can carry the world on their shoulder. Worlds, she corrects herself. The dog -she doesn't know its name- ambles into the house, smelling the uneaten bacon maybe. She runs her hand through the leaves of a plant hanging on the side of the porch, idly wondering if Lincoln also had a day off. Or if he could...

She hears a crash around the side of the house, then muffled cursing. Before thinking about it, she's running barefoot toward the sound. Just as she's about to turn the corner, Liv skids across the grass past her and stops in an awkward heap against the dog house. But Olivia is already turning and instinctively raising an arm to defend herself. The blow itself when it comes isn't too hard. The man does a double take when he sees her face and this gives her a second's opportunity to slam the heel of her hand up and into his nose. A satisfying crunch, then she's ducking below his angry swipe. She punches him in the groin, but he retaliates with a knee to her face that clips her on the chin instead. Olivia staggers back, momentarily dizzy.

He kicks at her, but it doesn't quite connect. Olivia forces the vertigo away to find that Liv has his shin in a firm grip, she twists it and he falls to the ground. He side-sweeps her legs from under her with his other leg and the two of them struggle for advantage.

The man, larger and stronger than both Olivias, finally throws Liv off to the side. Olivia jumps onto his back and wraps her arms tight around his neck. She can feel the blood from his broken nose oozing onto her arm. Liv delivers several punches to his chest and abdomen before he suddenly leans forward and head butts her. Olivia's head, so close to his, also slam into Liv's. The two of them reel away from the man, pain simultaneously clouding their vision.

Liv recovers faster, only to have the butt of a gun slam hard into her head. She falls to the ground, stunned. Staring up at the cloudless sky that somehow never achieves the same blue as the other universe's cloudless skies, she thinks to herself that she's going to be late for work again and Lincoln and Charlie will be going on and on about it all day. They'll have Farnsworth calculate the amount of days she'd been late to work this year, and the likelihood of her getting disciplinary action for it.

The metallic click of a gun's release lever being slid back makes her focus on the gun pointing at her. She likes guns. She and guns are friends. They work well together -she takes a deep breath- though maybe not today.

**Knock, Knock**

"Lincoln!" Marilyn waves the Agent in. "The girls are in the backyard."

"Mrs Dunham, you're looking as beautiful as ever," dimples flashing, he dips his head in a charming bow. "Is that breakfast I can smell?"

"Yes, and there's more than enough left over if you want some," she sighs. "Those two... Coffee - all they care about this morning."

"Coffee? Where?" he quickly follows her to the kitchen. Lincoln glances at the barely-touched plates on the table and grins. "Mushrooms. I love mushrooms. My mother-"

The fatal sound of a gunshot rips through the early Thursday morning calm.

"They're killing each other!" Marilyn exclaims. The dog starts barking agitatedly.

In a blink, Lincoln has his gun out and is running out into the yard. Gesturing at the dog, he bellows at her, "Keep him here."

Outside, he finds Liv on the ground staring dazedly at Olivia who is standing over her with both hands wrapped around the hilt of a still smoking gun.

"Olivia!" he yells, not really sure which woman he is calling out to. But it didn't matter because both of them turn toward him. Olivia points the gun down, and holds out a hand to Liv. She grabs it and hauls herself up. They both have blood all over them. "What the hell?"

Liv staggers over to another fallen figure. Lincoln mutters a curse. So distracted by the two Dunhams, he'd missed the perp.

Liv peers down at the man, and flashes Olivia a grin. "Good shot," she touches the middle of her forehead and raises her eyebrows. Whatever else she means to say is forgotten as her fingers come away bloody. She cocks her head to the side for a moment and then points at Olivia's recently healed forehead.

Olivia grins back, "Your turn."

Then they both look at him with identical triumphant smirks. By the time Marilyn turns up to the scene with the Junior Agent who had been posted out front, they are both sitting on the ground in hysterics, a dead body between them.


	6. Same Difference

**SAME DIFFERENCE  
><strong>(Note rating change for this chapter: M)

**Flesh And Blood**

Liv paces around her hospital bed, trying to overcome the rising tension and irritation she always feels, and eventually succumbs to, when in hospital. That she's currently an inpatient is even more galling. There's absolutely nothing wrong with her. It's just a scratch. But her mother insisted - and Broyles had agreed - that she get a proper workup done before going back to work. So instead of helping a solo Charlie deal with a Class Six infringement in Scranton, she's here, barely resisting the urge to throw a chair at the window. Preferably the chair on which her mother is sitting in the corner, knitting up little colourful patches of squares as though a tribe of little Dunhams' existence depended on it.

"Exactly which part of 'take it easy over the next few days' was unclear?" striding in, the doctor asks. He shoots her, and her hair, a cold, indifferent look before punching more notes into the tablet he's holding. "On the bed," and then perhaps more for the sake of her mother, "Please."

Swallowing the automatic crude response that almost snarled out of her mouth, Liv jumps onto the bed. Her mother's knitting needles stop their clacking.

He reaches up to her forehead, and Liv instinctively jerks back. "Olivia," her mother sighs, exasperated. With a condescending smile, he prods the surrounding area of her recently sealed wound.

"Any pain? Headaches?" he murmurs, eyeing the healed laceration bemusedly. Liv shakes her head, and him off. "Can you tell me your full name?"

"Olivia Dunham," she replies. "And who are _you_?"

"Dr Thomas Newton," he shines a light across her eyes, making her pull back again. "I operated on you the last time you were here. Last week."

"Doctor, does she need surgery?" her mother sounded weary, and Liv grumpily admits that it has been a long, trying week for the older woman, and she's actually coping better than Liv has any right to expect.

He presses a button on his tablet and a holographic representation of two brains appears in front of the bed. One was hers, and the other Olivia's. Not that he knew of course. He frowns at the images and shakes his head, "No. Not this time, though it's curious..."

Raising an eyebrow, Liv leans forward, subconsciously eager for further information on how she differs from her blonde counterpart, "What is?"

"There is absolutely no evidence of the surgical drainage on your subdural hematoma that I performed last week on your current scans," he flicks a glance in the corner that showed her DNA proof of identity. "And your current wound is a centimeter to the left of your previous injury."

"You always gotta be so precise, doc?" Liv drawls, swinging her legs so she's sitting at the side of the bed.

Newton seems to be too distracted to move away so her knee ends up pressed against his thigh. Icy blue eyes stare deep into hers before he replies. "Precise is _exactly_ what I have to be. Lives depend on it."

Liv rolls her eyes and before he can continue, jumps off the bed, "If my life doesn't depend on you cracking my head open, I'm leaving. Mom, where are my clothes?"

**Flesh And Bone**

She's wearing old jeans - so faded it's practically grey - with a small hole in the left knee, and a slightly wrinkled white tshirt. She turns to him as she pulls back her still damp hair in a ponytail. Lincoln braces himself against the doorway unable to think of what to say. The silence might've been awkward if he isn't so lost in the moment. The way the early afternoon sun is making her blonde hair glow, the warmth of the day, alleviated intermittently by the curious breeze that wafted in and out of the window, the way she smelled of honey and peaches from her shower all the way across the room. He feels the wooden ridges of the doorway digging against his hands as he unconsciously leans forward.

Olivia bites her lips and drapes her towel over a chair, "You okay?"

"Yeah," he clears his suddenly husky voice. "I haven't been battling all sorts of villains all morning."

She grins, "Villain. And I had help."

"Mhm, guy didn't have a chance," he steps into the room, looking around. "You're sure you're not hurt?"

"Yeah," she reassures him softly, pushing her hands in her back pockets to stop herself from reaching out to him.

He gestures to the bed next to her, "Did you sleep here?"

She nods, but keeps her eyes on him. "Lincoln-"

And he's on her. His hands are on her hips, pulling her to him, mouth crushing hers – or maybe hers crushing his. Then he's tugging her hair free with one hand and pulling her leg up to his side with the other. He mutters a curse as it catches on his thigh holster. She laughs and watches him unbuckle the damn thing and drop it to the floor, her fingers running through the short hair at the nape of his neck. He shivers involuntarily, and then groans as she tugs on his earlobe with her teeth. Then they're tripping onto the bed.

Within the next few minutes, he is without a shirt and her jeans are unzipped. Olivia's breathing quickens further as Lincoln slowly kisses his way down. He nibbles around her navel and then she feels his hot tongue flicking in and out. Gasping out loud, Olivia finds herself wrestling with a man for the second time that day.

She flips Lincoln over, pulling his arms up over his head. He groans, head jerking up towards her, as she wriggles to find a better position while straddling him. Or maybe just to torture him. She can feel him growing harder by the second, and she grins with satisfaction before leaning forward to kiss him.

They ignore the muffled chirping of his ear cuff, lost in the rumpled sheets, for as long as they can, but when it stops for only a few seconds before starting again, Olivia finally raises her head.

"Must be important," she mumbles, staring at his lips. Lincoln protests, but she's already smoothing the sheets around them. His hands are still inside her shirt, cupping her breasts, when she finds the cuff and fits it on his earlobe.

"Lincoln," he growls.

"Agent Lee, is there another incident?" Broyles snaps. Lincoln snatches his hands out of Olivia's shirt as though burned.

"Sir?" he rasps out. "No. No, sir."

"Is the other Agent Dunham alright?"

"Um, yeah," Lincoln looks at Olivia and blushes fiercely. "Yes, sir, she's great. I mean, she's fine." Olivia smirks, and he makes a face at her.

"Good. Take her immediately to the Bridge. Her own can watch over her now. We had a Class Six event at Scranton earlier today, and now another in Pottsville," seeing the dismay and the frustration on Lincoln's face, Olivia slips off him and sits at the edge of the bed instead. He sits up and reaches for her hand. She squeezes it once, and then just holds on calmly. "Francis was at the scene of the first event, and Dunham is on her way to meet him at the second. I want you to meet up with them as soon as you can. Three people have been found dead, we need to contain this."

"Yes, sir," he says much more firmly than he feels. He watches Olivia walk to the bathroom. When she comes back out again a few minutes later, he sadly asks, "Are you mad?"

"No," Olivia touches her fingers to his lips, then leans down to give him a small, chaste kiss. "Of course not. The world needs saving, and you're needed. Who am I to argue with that?"

**Flesh And Hope**

Olivia yawns tiredly as she enters her apartment. She cocks her head at the stillness of the place. It is home, and yet somehow, she's already missing the warmth of Marilyn's house. Olivia still feels disappointed at not having had the chance to personally thank _her_ mother for letting her stay, for looking after her. She pushes the grief away at the thought of never seeing her again.

She walks around her apartment - in part to make sure nothing had been disturbed in her absence, but also to try to overcome the restlessness gnawing at her. Maybe she should go to the lab. But the idea of being so close to where she had almost died makes her uneasy. She resolves to just call Walter instead. She eyes her whisky cabinet absently, and wonders if she should go for a run, or take a hot shower.

What she really wants is to take a long hot bath with Lincoln. But that's not going to happen.

_Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock._

Olivia freezes momentarily. Her spare gun is in her room, no time to grab it now. She grabs a knife from a kitchen drawer and makes her way silently to the door. She peers through the peephole and snorts in amusement.

Opening the door wide, she waves her visitor in with the knife. Agent Lee- Lincoln pauses at the knife in her hand, squinting at it through his glasses.

Olivia shrugs, smiling sheepishly, "I lost my gun."

"Okaaay," he says. When she turns from shutting the door, it's to find him looking at her the way Walter examines things under his microscope. For some reason though, she doesn't mind. "Agent Farnsworth mentioned you were home, and as I was running past anyway, I thought I might as well say hey."

"Hey," Olivia cocks her head to the side and smirks.

"Are you alright? The other Olivia-" at this, he frowns. "You're you, right?"

In surprise, she smiles gratefully at her new partner, "Yes, it's me. And yes, she talked about helping with the investigation. How was Walter?"

Lincoln suddenly grins. Olivia catches her breath, if not for the glasses...

As he tells her the story of the incident between Walter and Liv, she offers him a glass of whisky. He pauses to take a sip, winces, and then takes another. It makes her smile. They talk for a while, him filling her in on the events on this side, then she takes her turn.

He eventually lapses into a thoughtful silence. Olivia is curious as to what he's thinking, but is content to wait for him to voice it. She wonders if the other Lincoln, her Lincoln, is also capable of being this contemplative. And if this Lincoln, her partner, can, if he is to make an effort, light up a room with just a flash of those irresistible dimples.

Olivia leans forward absently and takes his glasses off. Lincoln blinks in surprise, "What-"

And Olivia is confused by her own action. She frowns and shakes her head. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I don't know why I just did that."

But for the short time she has known him, she has found him to be quite intuitive. And this time is no different, he understands before she does, and she sees it in his clear, un-bespectacled eyes. He sighs, and his smile is a muted version of the one she really wants to see. "Who knew the world is so crazy. It's supposed to be- It's _not_ supposed to be like this." He drains his third shot of whisky and looks at her hopefully. "Do you think we can fix it?"

"We can only hope."


	7. It Shifts Again

**IT SHIFTS AGAIN**

**Friend Or Foe**

They are sitting, of all places, on a wide, movable ladder just to the side of the Machine. Out of the way enough to stop any of the scientists from both worlds protesting against their presence, but too much in full view of all the researchers and statisticians at work within the Bridge to Lincoln's liking. Olivia seems distracted though, and more than a little unsettled.

"So, he just appeared out of nowhere?"

Olivia purses her lips, and Lincoln automatically prepares himself for the outburst that'd normally follow the same expression on Liv's face. But Olivia just sighs, and then shrugs tiredly. "Not exactly 'out of nowhere', he appeared in the middle of Reiden Lake. Swimming – who knows? Rescued by a father and son who were fishing."

"My father used to take me fishing at Reiden Lake in the summer when I was young," Lincoln says softly, remembering a man whose shadow, even in death, he'll most likely never surpass, at least in his own eyes. "You know who else had a summer house there?"

"Walter Bishop," Olivia replies with a sideways look at the man who so complicates her thoughts and emotions these days.

"Our Reiden Lake is now ambered. It was one of the first locations the Secretary had quarantined after he developed the compound for amber," for a moment he looks sad. Then more cheerfully, and all too obsequious, "Do you think your mystery guy has a double on my side? Want me to discreetly check our databases?"

"You?" Olivia raises an eyebrow and smirks, "Discreet?"

"What, I'm discreet, ask-" Olivia starts to laugh silently, her nose all crinkled up, and her shoulders shaking. "Well, ask people- though not Liv. Or Charlie. They lie about me all the time."

Still grinning, Olivia nudges him gently, "Why do I get the feeling it'll be Agent Farnsworth who'll do the actual searching?"

"Well, she's better at it," he leans sideways against her, their shoulders pressing together. "And faster too."

Olivia dreamily watches his fingers surreptitiously entwining themselves around hers, "I dunno, Broyles didn't say- I'm not sure if it's the right time for your Secretary to know."

Lincoln looks up, momentarily confused, "What does the Secretary have to do with this?"

"Mystery guy says he's Peter Bishop. And he knows too many details about everything. Broyles is-"

"Wait. The Secretary's kid? I thought he died?" his grip tightens around her fingers.

"Well, he did. I mean, both Peter Bishops, yours and the one from our side - as far as it has been reported anyway. We're not really sure who this man is, or his agenda, but he's agreed to a DNA test. Walter's being difficult about it right now though," Olivia looks intently at Lincoln. "If he _does_ end up being who he claims to be - who's to say which side's Peter Bishop he is." A slightly horrified look crosses her face, "Lincoln, this is important. You can't- You cannot mention this to _anyone_. Not even to your team."

"Olivia-"

"No, I know what I'm asking. And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything all, but-" and she pulls her hand away from his. His fingers curl around the sudden emptiness, but he stops himself from reaching for her. She gets up from their makeshift seat, and stares across the long length of the warehouse-like space at the two opposing doorways to the Bridge.

Lincoln watches her shoulders slump forward. She shakes her head sadly as she faces him, guilt clearly written on her face. As she opens her mouth to continue, he interrupts, "Don't even say it."

She bites her lip, "But it's true. I may have compromised this fragile peace we've got going. Do you understand the consequences?"

"Or maybe this- no, maybe _he_ is just another event," he says leaning forward, willing her to stop working herself up, but failing. "Another victim, or perpetrator, caught between the cracks of our breaking worlds and the deranged laws of science and nature in both."

"I think this time it's different. I can feel it. It's something... more."

"Then you haven't compromised anything," he stands up now too, and firmly takes hold of her hands. "All joking aside, you _can_ trust me. I won't say anything until you get your orders. Until you deem it safe. I give you my word."

She looks up at him, eyes not quite disbelieving, but unsure nevertheless. "Remind me again how this," and he knows exactly to what she is referring. "Why this isn't a bad idea."

A little hurt at her inability to fully trust him despite never having given her a reason to not trust him in the first place, Lincoln can't think of the words to reassure her. Instead, he kisses her slowly and gently. At least she seems as willing to disregard any audience they might've attracted. "You can trust me. I'll prove it to you."

Olivia keeps her eyes closed as she remains within the circle of his arms. Doubt, guilt and defiance fight for dominance within her. She runs the knuckle of one hand down his chest, hearing his sudden intake of breath. It makes her smile, so she leans back and looks him in the eye and nods.

"Okay," she says, stepping away from him. "But I've got to go. I hope those files help with your case."

"It will," he smiles, but he still feels a distance between them, making him feel frustrated. "Good luck with yours."

They walk side by side toward their respective doors, hands brushing every now and then. Just before his door slides shut, he calls out to her, "When am I going to see you again?"

Olivia cocks her head to the side, and then impulsively asks, "What are you doing tomorrow night? It's my guardian's birthday."

He laughs, for a moment back to being the eager and mischievous Lincoln she knows. "Yeah? Barring the end of the world, I'm in, especially if there's dancing."

**Definitely The Enemy**

Olivia just rolls her eyes in amusement. As she turns back to her door, she catches a scientist's eyes before he in turn walks behind a row of servers where a number of similarly dressed science and tech personnel are working. Brandon Fayette. From the other side. Her hand is on her gun before she's fully conscious of the movement. A cold feeling of dread runs down her spine. Olivia swears to herself.


	8. Game On

**GAME ON**

**Meet And Greet**

"Will you be staying in New York tonight, dear?" Nina Sharp asks, as she opens the door to her penthouse wide for Olivia and Lincoln.

"No," Olivia sighs. "I have boxes of cases I need to review for Agent Broyles."

"Ah, for the Mystery Man case," Nina eyes Olivia knowingly, her own mysterious smile making Olivia wonder, yet again, how this woman who had brought her and her sister up always seem to know so much. And from whom she gets her information. "Well, it was lovely to see you tonight, Olivia. Don't wait too long before coming by again. And a pleasure to meet you, Agent Lee."

"Lincoln," he smiles. "And the pleasure is all mine, Miss Sharp. Again, happy birthday."

"I like this one, Olivia," she laughs as she waves them off.

**Apparently, This Isn't The First Time**

Lincoln holds Olivia's hand lightly as they ride the elevator down. She smiles as she listens to him humming along with the music, "I'm sorry there wasn't any dancing."

"It's okay. The food was great, the conversation interesting and..."

"And?" Olivia raises an eyebrow.

"She's intimidating, isn't she?"

Olivia hides a grin with her hand, "I guess. But she has a softer heart than it would seem," at Lincoln's unconsciously sceptical expression, she explains further. "When I was fourteen, my mother died. Nina took Rachel and me in, raised us - and she didn't have to. I think initially it was partly because of William Bell and what he and Walter did to me. The experiments... I think she'd always acted as his conscience, their conscience. But, she never made it seem... She seemed to care," Olivia shrugs, eyes haunted and lost in the past for a moment. "She cared enough."

They step out into the cool night air, both automatically sweeping the area with their eyes. A man in grey keeps to the shadows, unseen.

"I'm sorry," Lincoln whispers as they walk to her car. He squeezes her hand and she looks over to him, he smiles sadly. "I'm sorry about your mom."

"It's funny how-"

The pop of a gunshot above them, and then another, makes Lincoln grab at Olivia with the intent to push her behind him. But she is already rushing back to the building.

"It's inside," she yells, her gun already out. "Upstairs. Call it in."

"I can't call it in," he yells back, waving at his ear. And he has no gun. It didn't seem appropriate to be armed when meeting - his girlfriend, lover... uh, - Olivia's guardian for the first time, but perhaps it _is_ always a good idea to be carrying a piece when one is with this Olivia Dunham. In any universe. She sure is a damn magnet for trouble. He points at the concierge as Olivia jabs the elevator button a dozen times, "Call Fringe Div- Call the police."

Lincoln looks around. When he sees the fire escape, he runs to it. He hears the elevator doors open and turns just in time to see Olivia's blonde hair disappearing in. Then she pokes her head back out, "Be careful."

"You too," he nods.

Lincoln sprints up the stairs, controlling his breathing and his worrying. No point to the worrying, really, he reassures himself, she's insanely capable of kicking anyone's ass, his own included. He ran faster, hauling himself up several steps at a time. More gun shots, then the door slamming open a couple of floors up. He almost falls back as he comes to a sudden stop. Grabbing onto the railing he looks up, and meets the eyes of a woman with mostly translucent skin peering down over a banister. She quickly disappears, and he gives chase.

Quicker than expected, he is staring at the door that leads to the rooftop. There is nothing around to be used as a weapon. He looks at his shoes, all shined up that he can practically see himself staring back. He mentally kicks himself as he removes his jacket. Then before he can change his mind, he pushes the door open and rolls out.

He is crouched low on the ground, breathing fast, with his eyes roaming the rooftop. A gunshot barely misses him, but target acquired, he is already standing and taking aim. His shoe smacks right into the shapeshifter's face stunning her enough that she doesn't react before he slams into her. They fall to the ground grappling for her gun. Lincoln can hear police sirens getting closer, and hopes Olivia is alright downstairs. The woman underneath him manages to knee him in the stomach and he reels slightly back, she then elbows him in the face and flips them both over. She quickly slams his head down onto the ground when he tries to chokehold her. She is faster and stronger than she looks.

"You," Olivia snarls, striding forward, gun aimed at the shapeshifter's head. "Get your hands off him."

Lincoln and the shapeshifter turn toward her. Blonde hair, red lips, black dress, and murderous intent in her eyes. The shapeshifter is suddenly off him and over the side of the building. Olivia shoots, but hits nothing. "What-"

"Damn it," she growls, running to the edge of the roof. Then resignation as she points, "There it is."

"She made it?" Lincoln asks, rubbing the back of his head.

"It," she corrects him absently, taking her phone out from who-knows-where. Olivia eyes him from head to foot while speed-dialling Broyles. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he nods dazedly.

"What happened to your shoe?"

**Time For The Lipstick To Come Off**

"What's the official statement going to be?" Olivia asks Broyles as he returns from making a phone call. It's past midnight and the man is still immaculately dressed.

"What it always is," he replies dryly. "Not quite the truth."

"Huh," Olivia smiles, looking back down into her cooling cup of coffee. He sits next to her. "A doctor came by, said the surgery is going alright. They're very interested to know more about her-" Olivia wriggles the fingers of her right hand.

"I'm sure Nina will sort that out herself when she wakes up," looking straight ahead, he continues. "And Agent Lee?"

"He should be back from his CT scan soon," Olivia keeps her eyes low.

"What is he even doing here?" he asks, although he most likely knows the answer to that already.

"I- He's with me," she frowns, hating the defensive tone in her voice.

"Why _him_?"

"Sir, with all due respect," Olivia sits up, anger simmering just below the surface, "What I do with what little free time I have, and with whom, is my business and nobody else's."

He shifts to the side just enough to look at her without actually turning his head, "Believe me, Dunham, I have no intention of getting in your business. Private business. But he's from the other side. And unfortunately _that_ is my business. It is Fringe Division business."

"We're no longer at war," she says in a fierce whisper. "We're supposed to be working together."

"Working," he repeats with just enough emphasis on the word to make her blush a little. "Have you considered it from all angles? Have you thought of all the consequences?"

She gets up and starts pacing. Finally, with hands on her hips, she stops in front of him and shrugs, "He's a good man."

"Do you trust him?"

"Do you trust me?" she snaps back. He merely stares at her. "Yes, I trust him."

They stare at each other for a moment longer, Olivia willing herself to hold the man's gaze. Then he sighs softly, and rolls his eyes. "Well, I'd be very interested in hearing what _his_ commanding officer says about this."

Olivia thinks of the other Colonel, and then takes a shaky breath. She sits back down next to her Broyles and bites her lip, "Yeah, well, I am kinda glad I don't have to explain things to him."

Broyles raises an eyebrow at her.

"Any chance we could keep this to ourselves just for the next little while?" Lincoln sleepily drawls from a wheelchair just around the corner. "I really don't think I can manage to fully explain the situation, and express all my feelings, and defend my right to personal fulfilment and happiness to the very best of my ability just now. Sir."

Broyles makes an exasperated sound.

"Lincoln, what did they give you?" Olivia hurries over to him. Somewhere along the way, he'd lost his other shoe.

"A very good medication," he beams up at her. "For the headache. Which is gone. The scan was okay, apparently there's nothing wrong with my head. Took a while to find out though. Your scanning machines are funny here. But good drugs."

Agent Broyles also stands. His face clear of expression, he nods in Lincoln's direction. "You're in charge of him. Make sure he doesn't get up to any mischief. Get him back to the Bridge when he's _compos mentis_," he starts to walk away but turns back. "And Dunham, go get some sleep. She most likely will be out of surgery soon, but will be in recovery until the morning."

"Yes, sir."

"I will need you back in Boston as soon as you can tomorrow though," he pointedly looks at her.

"Peter Bishop is waiting," Lincoln's head lolls back, his eyes unfocused.

Olivia's head jerks up, meeting Broyles' furious glare, she waves nervous hands at him before he can say anything. "He was going to discreetly search their databases for this man claiming to be Peter Bishop, and to look for any suspicious incidents around Reiden Lake."

"Agent Farnsworth said I shouldn't search Peter Bishop's name if I wanted to keep it a secret because the Secretary keeps tabs on that name even now. His face has not been on any Show Me's. Ever. And then... We checked on the amber encasing Reiden Lake, and there is a slight discrepancy-" his eyes suddenly refocusing, Lincoln pouts at her. "'livia, can we go dancing now?"

"What? What discrepancy? Lincoln," Olivia asks anxiously. But his eyes are closed again.

"Bring him to the lab tomorrow," Broyles snaps. "I'll have a message sent over to his side about his whereabouts."

**Batteries Are Included**

She limps in, appearing tired and in pain. Curious. Perhaps it's habit, a remembered response, he muses. He didn't design them to feel. "Did you get it?" his accented voice is deceptively soft.

"Yes," she hands him a small disk.

"And the others?"

"The blonde woman killed them."

He sighs, "Go repair yourself."


	9. Not Quite Strangers In This Strange Land

**NOT QUITE STRANGERS IN THIS STRANGE LAND**

**Starting The Day Right**

He wakes to golden strands of hair tickling his right cheek, and the faint smell of apples. He is smiling before he knows for sure that he isn't dreaming, because honestly, even if it's all just a dream, it's still a good one. She's facing mostly to her right, toward the window, where the day, through a gap in the curtains, promises rain at some point. He peers down at their left hands, linked together on her hip. Not a bad place to spend the rest of his days, he idly thinks, shifting his head closer to hers. The sharp pain from the bruise on the back of his head makes him groan and she stirs to wakefulness.

"Lincoln," she squeezes his hand. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I forgot about my head," he smiles weakly. Her sleepy green eyes, this close, will surely be the death of him. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Olivia pushes herself up on her elbows and leans over him. "Let me have a look."

"Is it okay? Is it bleeding?" yep - she definitely smells like apples.

"Not bleeding, no, but does it hurt a lot?" she worriedly asks, and he wonders if she'd stay in bed all day with him if he makes his condition seem worse. Then while he's debating with himself the long-term merit of being honest and the here-now satisfaction of not being so honest, she kisses him.

And that's that.

**No Time For Afterglows**

Lincoln stares dazedly up at the random pinpricks of light where the ceiling should be, his arms outstretched, and he's breathing unevenly and fast. Olivia gathers up her hair to the side and turns to him with a raised eyebrow. He grins widely at her, "Wait. Hold on. Gimme a minute... Maybe two. Then we can go again."

She snorts incredulously, "Are you serious? _Again_?" When he reaches up to stroke the side of her face, she catches his hand and kisses it, and then Olivia shakes her head. "It's after nine! We're late, and we are in enough trouble with Broyles already. So, you go shower while I call the hospital."

"Oh, but-" and he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close to his still sweaty chest. Within seconds, she's deepening the kiss, one hand moving slowly down his body. Then just as he is congratulating himself on winning this most awesome war, she pulls away and laughs.

"No," too quick for his muddled senses, she's off him and taking the sheet with her. "Lincoln, go shower."

**Nor For Breakfast**

Olivia is drying the tips of her hair one last time as she walks out of her room. Lincoln is crouched in front of an old box next to the television unit. She can smell the coffee wafting from the kitchen, making her smile appreciatively at him. He waves an old DVD at her, "I swear I've seen every Cary Grant movie, but I don't remember this one."

"Really? That's one of his more famous-"

"And this," he exclaims, "Humphrey Bogart did this!"

Olivia savors her first cup of coffee of the day while watching him eagerly go through her much neglected DVD collection. After all these time, she really needs to get proper shelves and unpack the boxes. "You can borrow those if you like."

"Yeah?" he nods excitedly. "Maybe one at a time though. I'm not sure how well it'll look if I start bringing boxes of things over the Bridge."

"Um, speaking of that..." she cocks her head at him.

"Time to go?" at her assent, he gets up, straightens his tie and dons his suit. He looks more like her partner today than himself. They both look down at his bare feet.

Olivia laughs, "Come on. Lincoln says he'll lend you a pair."

"What'd you do, bribe him? The guy doesn't like me much."

Genuinely curious, and for good reason, she wonders out loud, "Do _you_ like him?"

Lincoln rubs his unshaven jaw, not really having thought much about it, "I don't know. I don't know him well enough." Olivia tilts her head, listening intently. The serious expression on her face is as familiar to him now as Liv's more sardonic countenance. "We may look the same, we may behave, and think, and react the same way about certain things, but we are still two _different_ people."

"Hm," she fidgets with her keys as she thinks about his words.

He wants to ask her to give Liv a chance, to go past his friend's more abrasive exterior and dig into the core that he knows for a fact they both share. But he stops himself. Olivia Dunham will do what Olivia Dunham does, in her own time, and for her own reasons.

So, instead, he teasingly asks, "Aren't you gonna button your jacket?"

"Nope," she snaps out of her contemplation, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Don't feel like it today."

"And you're sure we don't have an extra five minutes to spare?"

"Lincoln," she aims to sound admonishing but mostly she's trying not to laugh.

As they walk down the hall, teasing and laughing at each other, a door opens and an old man peers out. Olivia flashes him an unconsciously beautiful smile that startles him and makes him quickly duck back into his room and slam the door shut.

"Who's that?" Lincoln whispers.

"I dunno," she shrugs, lips twitching with amusement. "Next door neighbor, I guess."

"What? You haven't checked them out?" at her surprised look, he grins. "Why not? Besides, don't you think he looks like the Doctor in that Eric Stoltz movie?"

"Which movie?" Olivia lifts her eyes to the grey clouds as they step out of her building. Winter is definitely coming.

"Back to the Future," he says, taking her hand. "There's like, four of them."

"Oh," she frowns in confusion. "You mean Michael J. Fox."

Then it's his turn to look puzzled, "Michael Jay who?"

Unnoticed, a bald man in grey crosses the street and disappears around the corner.

**It Really Is A Different Universe**

The drive through Boston is surreal for Lincoln. The only time he'd been to this place on his side was for training purposes before he joined Fringe Division. Too much of the area had been declared a no-go zone and is off limits to civilians. Many had left, moved on to other parts of the country – not that anyone can avoid the disintegration of the universe. So, on his side, Boston is nothing more than a ghost town. There isn't anything interesting to see there anyway - except for the Ambered. But they're more tragic than interesting.

But here, the town is alive, and apparently thriving. He gapes at the trees where there shouldn't be trees, and people roaming around areas that have been quarantined so long ago on his side. He shakes his head, attempting to overcome a feeling of such overwhelming sadness, for his family and friends, for his world.

Lincoln clears his throat before looking at her. "Do you think we can fix it?"

Olivia bites her lip, unsure of what to say, then she nods resolutely, "Yes. We have to."

The walk from the car to the lab is mostly quiet. Students and faculty barely even notice that he's walking around in his dress socks, but they all seem to stare curiously at Olivia - who naturally is unaware of their regard - but steer clear of her just the same.

The hallway outside the lab is empty. Olivia pauses in front of the doors and raises an eyebrow at him, "Are you ready for this?"

"As I'll ever be."

She pushes the door open and leads him in, "Welcome to Fringe Division."

"Moooo."

"What the-" Lincoln stops dead in his tracks. "She wasn't lying!"

Olivia smirks.

"Olivia!" Walter exclaims from somewhere in the lab. "Come, come! I have something to show you!"

Astrid ambles out of one of the offices carrying a dusty box of Walter's old files. She rolls her eyes at her superior, "He's been reverse-alphabetizing the chemicals again." Then noticing Lincoln, she winks at Olivia, "Hi, Agent Lee."

"Agent Farnsworth, good morning," eyes wide, mouth agape, he follows the two agents into the greater part of the archaic, but wondrous, laboratory.

"Olivia, look-" Walter's gleeful smile slips as he sees Lincoln behind Olivia. He turns in confusion to the Agent Lee sitting at the computer behind him. He whips back around and jabs a finger in Lincoln's direction. "You! You're one of his people! Olivia, what is he doing here? How did he get here?"

"Walter," Olivia walks toward the furious man, reaching for him. "Walter! Stop."

The man who looks like the Secretary, but in posture alone could never be mistaken for him, searches Olivia's eyes, making sure that he isn't being fooled yet again. "Olivia, why did you bring him here?" he peers around her to glower at Lincoln, then loudly whispers, "He's spying for _him_!"

"No, he's not, Walter. He's my friend, he's okay. We can trust him," she grips the old man's hands, willing him to believe her. "He's not a spy."

"Olive..." he trails off, still uncertain.

"Walter, I got your files," Astrid says cheerfully, attempting, and momentarily succeeding, in distracting the scientist.

"What files, dear?"

"Walterrrr," Astrid groans.

"And I got the shoes you asked for," Lincoln tells Olivia, pointing to a chair in a corner with an FBI jacket draped across its back and scuffed black shoes underneath. The other Lincoln scurries over to it, warily making sure Walter isn't following him. Lincoln watches him with perverse satisfaction.

"Clinton! Help me with the milkshake glasses. We have guests!" then Walter peers wickedly at the other Lincoln. "Unless, you'd like an omelette instead?"

Behind him, Astrid mouths a big 'no' in warning and points to her ear.

"Uh," eyes darting nervously to Olivia, Lincoln shakes his head. "No, thank you. Milkshake would be fine."

"Excellent, you-"

The door swings open and Broyles strides in, "We have a problem."

"Nina's been taken to the Massive Dynamic recovery wing-"

"It's not her," Broyles tersely states, coolly eyeing the agent from the other side. "Peter Bishop has escaped."

"No, no, no!" Walter wags a finger at Agent Broyles, agitatedly shifting from one foot to another. "Don't call him that! He's not Peter, he is not my son. My son is dead!"

"I'm not dead, Walter," a man just inside the doorway sadly announces. "I'm right here."

Broyles spins around. His gun is out of his holster and pointing at the figure in one smooth motion. Olivia, in turn, is suddenly between him and the escaped - conman maybe? That irrational feeling she has that this man, no matter how suspicious, isn't truly a threat to them, is back.

"Dunham, get out of the way," snaps Broyles.

And then Lincoln is there too, catching her hand, attempting to pull her back, or at the very least, face the enemy with her. Maybe-Peter visibly stiffens as he focuses on the casual intimacy of their linked hands.

"Oh, no," he says, as he meets Olivia's bemused gaze with such a crestfallen expression on his face, "Olivia."

Next to Astrid, Lincoln takes his glasses off and wonders out loud, "Do we even have enough milkshake glasses..."


	10. All That You Can't Leave Behind

**ALL THAT YOU CAN'T LEAVE BEHIND**

**She Moves In Mysterious Ways**

"Dunham," Olivia curtly answers her phone. The man insisting on being Peter Bishop stares at her mournfully. Behind her, Broyles is growling into his phone for back up and transport. Lincoln crosses his arms and glowers at the mystery man. "What? How long- No. Leave everything as it is, we'll be there soon."

Her partner across the room squints at her as he wipes his glasses with a white handkerchief. "What now?"

"Robbery and homicide, with a twist," she turns her back on the man with the sad eyes that makes her inexplicably guilty.

"I'm starting to live for these twists," Lincoln walks over to Broyles, glasses firmly in place. "It's our girl again, isn't it?"

The other Lincoln grins in amusement but maintains his attention on Peter, who also seems interested in this new case. "Maybe you and I should go chat with the cow."

Broyles nods in approval and gestures for Olivia to come closer.

"Her name is Gene," Peter tells Lincoln coolly. Walter peers at him with fear and longing from behind Astrid, who keeps an eye on everybody.

**Wait Til The End Of The World**

"What've we got?" Liv taps Charlie's shoulder as she walks by, looking around the hustle and bustle of the crime scene cheerfully.

"The late and unfortunate Joseph Smith," Charlie rasps, tapping on his tablet. "Get this, a parasite had wrapped itself around his heart and gave him a heart attack."

"Huh," at the mention of parasites, she raises her eyebrows teasingly at her partner. "Not as friendly as yours?"

"Apparently not," the two agents peer into the victim's opened chest. "One of the medics tried an emergency thoracotomy and found this..."

"Gruesome," she shudders. "How'd it get there?"

"Who knows, but the general consensus is that it isn't contagious," he shakes his head. "How did _we_ get here, Liv? It's not enough that our days are numbered as it is, but we also gotta kill each other in such diabolical fashion."

Liv stares thoughtfully after the body as it gets wheeled away, "We will win the war, Charlie."

"Which war?"

"All the wars anyone chooses to spring on us," then she smirks at him. "Know why? Because we're the best, you, me, and- Where's Lincoln?"

**The Heart Is A Bloom**

"You're sure I can't help with your case?" Lincoln asks, leaning in without touching her before pulling back again. "I'm very good at solving cases, you know."

Olivia grins, but shakes her head. She looks around to see her partner getting last minute instructions from Broyles. The Peter Bishop man is in the car already, surrounded by other agents. Broyles isn't taking any chances this time. "You better get back before they think we've kidnapped you. But I would appreciate it if you could keep an eye on those molecular discrepancies around Reiden Lake. I have a feeling..."

"I know, and I will," he reassures her. Then as the car which will be taking him back to the Bridge pulls up next to them, Lincoln sighs. "I hate having to leave like this."

Olivia bites her lip, then coming to a decision, reaches up to the back of his head and tugs him close for a quick kiss. "I'll see you soon," she says softly. In another breath she's walking away, hands deep in her pockets and her golden hair blowing gently in the breeze.

Lincoln sighs again, but smiles and whispers to himself, "Soon."

Inside the car, Peter bows his head, his heart caught in an agonizing grip of loss and confusion.

**Don't Say That Later Will Be Better**

From the translucency of her skin, the victim had clearly been killed by a shapeshifter. Her husband, Malcolm Truss, a research scientist from Massive Dynamic had just been sighted in Rutland, Vermont. According to this side's Brandon Fayette who had worked briefly with him, the doctor is waiting for his appeal for further funding to be approved so he could complete his work on Cellular Replication.

Olivia doesn't need to be a genius to realize what the success of the project could mean for the shapeshifters. She rubs her lower lip and sighs.

"You wanna drive?" Lincoln asks.

"Hm?" Olivia pulls herself back from her dark musings, "Oh, no. Why?"

"Well, you always drive. Except today," he shrugs. "You've been fidgeting for the last hour, I figured it's because you're not used to not driving."

Olivia just looks at him for a moment, and then she smiles, "No, I don't mind you driving." Forcing herself to relax, she continues, "I was just thinking about these shapeshifters. Why are they doing this? What do they want?"

"And who's behind it all? Their technology, as evidently incomplete as it is, is quite advanced. Do you think the other side has anything to do with it?"

"I dunno," she frowns. "Lincoln- He said he'll keep his eyes and ears open for anything that could be related."

This Lincoln is quiet for a moment, and Olivia tries not to squirm. For three years she'd felt alone, and been alone - she had welcomed it, then feared it, then become resigned to it. And then suddenly, one after the other, all these men started appearing all over the place, making her think and feel and want...

"-I guess it'd be weird," he shrugs.

"Um. I'm sorry? What did you say?"

"I said, I'm glad the shapeshifter didn't do her thing with _him_," Olivia clenches her jaw at the thought. Not noticing, Lincoln shrugs and shifts his glasses, "It's strange enough knowing that someone else who is technically identical to me is walking around, living a life somewhere - quite another to have that someone be a hybrid person who can choose to be me at a whim, for some nefarious purpose."

Olivia straightens in her seat, "We really need to put a stop to this."

"Yeah, we really do," he nods emphatically. Then he glances at her, a small smile playing on his lips, "Do you think we should have a code or something? Just in case?"

**You Don't Have To Go It Alone**

They had found the gas station where Dr Truss had refuelled his car, and the body of the state policeman who'd called it in, but other than posing more questions, the trip had been largely unproductive. Then soon after their return to HQ, the prisoner was somehow able to access the shapeshifter's tracker and latch onto its current location down to the last degree.

The entire floor had stopped what they were doing and watched. And it was impressive, Olivia reluctantly admits to herself, but remembering the way he'd turned to her as though seeking her approval makes her frown.

Lincoln pulls his gun out and nods at her, "Are we ready?"

Clearing her expression and concentrating on the operation, Olivia tightens her grip on her gun as they round the corner of the port warehouse, "Team one in position."

Then Lincoln is kicking the door open, and they are flying through the warehouse and avoiding shots from the shapeshifter. It doesn't hit them, but they don't hit it either. When they find the doctor injured, she tells Lincoln to stay with him, and she gives chase with even more determination.

And then it's all over. Except, of course it's not.

The drive back to base is mostly silent and altogether subdued. Lincoln breaks the silence once to comment, "She- It can only escape us so many times."

Perhaps he's asking for affirmation, but Olivia, frustrated at her failure to be quicker, despondently stares at the setting sun and doesn't say anything.

**Drag The Past Into The Light**

She stands at the doorway of the room. Olivia cannot make herself step any further inside. When he looks up and smiles at her with such welcome and hope in his eyes, she fights the urge to cross her arms.

"What you said earlier," she unconsciously waves a hand as she recalls his words, "about talking to Walter as though he is the man you knew, but he's not, what did you mean by that?"

"In another life, he was- is my father," he rubs his face slowly. "But something went wrong, I was gone, I was somewhere, and now I'm here. I need his- I need your Walter's help to set it right."

Olivia opens her mouth to ask the question that had been bothering her since his appearance, but it takes her several attempts to voice it, "And me? In this other life, who was I?"

He gets up from the bed and walks toward her. She takes an involuntary step back and he freezes. A hurt look flits across his face and is gone. He looks down at his right hand before answering her, "Nothing. No one."

Despite hearing the lie in his words, and seeing it in his eyes, she lets it go for another day. "Walter will be here soon, I hope it goes better than this morning."

He barely looks at her this time and goes back to sit on his cot, with his right hand clenched in a fist.

Olivia stifles a sigh. When she finds Lincoln, he is packing his bag for the night, still appearing dejected. He declines her awkward attempt at cheering him up, and she wonders when she'd become so socially inept. Nina would be disappointed. Olivia smiles ruefully to herself as she looks around the almost empty office.

"Oh, hey, Jill," she calls to a passing junior agent. "Do you have those hourlies I asked for earlier?"

Looking confused the agent points to Olivia's desk, "I already gave them to you, Agent Dunham."


	11. Keeping Time

**KEEPING TIME  
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**The Past Is A Ghost**

Olivia goes through the stack of mail on her desk, her coat and bag already in her hands, ready to head home. She feels unaccountably apprehensive.

"I'm heading out before something comes up. Good night, Liv, and again, happy birthday," an agent calls out behind her.

"Good night, Charlie-" she turns, her smile freezing in place. Charlie disappears as the office shifts from the way it was three years ago to what it is today.

"Hey," Lincoln walks past her to his own desk. "Are you okay? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"Did you-" she starts, but changing her mind, Olivia simply takes a deep breath and shakes her head. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You're ready to go? Doing anything?" he pushes his glasses up and smiles nervously at her. "You wanna grab dinner or something?"

"Ah," Olivia smiles back, trying not to show her surprise. "Actually, I've got something to do... But listen, maybe tomorrow, or one of these days we can go out, with, um, Astrid, and maybe Walter to celebrate."

Raising his eyebrows, Lincoln shrugs off the awkwardness of his impromptu invitation and settles on friendly as they both walk to the elevator. "Celebrate what?"

"My birthday," Olivia grins, her earlier apprehension completely forgotten.

"Why didn't you say anything all day? We could've had cake or something!"

She smiles appreciatively at him, "The fact we didn't have a case to solve at all today is all the cake and icing I need."

"About that," Lincoln frowns. "No fringe event all day, isn't that strange in and of itself?"

But Olivia just laughs.

**A Memory**

Laughing, Liv leans over toward Mona, "And then he throws up all over the man next to us, and when we got to the ground, I had to flash the badge so he didn't get beaten up."

Hands to her mouth, Mona stifles a squeal of amusement, "Oh no!"

"I was nowhere near getting beaten up," Charlie protests. "She makes it sound worse than it was."

"Uh huh," Lincoln adds. "Didn't she have to carry you to the car? I read about this."

"'Read'?" Charlie glares at Liv. "What is he talking about?"

"I might have included it in the report," Liv smirks. "Accidentally."

"Yeah, right... Wait-" he frowns at her. "Was that why Broyles gave you the lead on all the cases that week?"

"Uh, who wants another drink?" she quickly ducks under his playful swipe.

"For that, you're buying all my drinks tonight, kiddo," Charlie laughs.

Mona gives her husband a disapproving look, "Be nice to her, it's her birthday."

Liv waves Lincoln after her, "Help me with the drinks?"

"Sure," he grins. "You actually drinking?"

**But It Makes Us Who We Are**

Olivia strokes the mare's nose before it gets taken away. She looks up at the moon - hanging low, heavy and incomplete, and unconsciously pulls her riding jacket closer around her. She takes her time walking to the clubhouse, smiling shyly at other patrons. Some faces are familiar and some new.

How many of them are who they say they are, she wonders. With Dr Truss' research in the hands of the enemy, monsters could be hiding under anyone's skin and nobody will ever know.

The snapping of a twig off to her left catches her attention, and there standing in the shadow of an elm tree is the shapeshifter wearing the face of Nadine Park. Olivia reaches for her gun, but remembers immediately that she'd left it in her locker in the clubhouse. It meets her furious glare with a blank stare, keeping completely still even as Olivia, against her better judgement, starts walking toward it unarmed.

"You," she calls out to it, wondering why it hasn't pulled a gun on her yet. "What do you want?"

As she gets to within just a handful of strides away from it, the shapeshifter takes a step back and slips behind the tree. Olivia pauses in consternation. She knows she's being lured into another ambush - but this is also an opportunity that she cannot allow herself to pass.

"Here we go again," she mutters grimly to herself. Then taking a deep breath follows the shapeshifter into the darkness behind the trees.

**For Better, Or Worse**

"This one's gone off the rails," Charlie half slurs. "I better take her home."

Mona giggles, and without taking her eyes off her husband, announces, "It is waaay past my bedtime."

"You kids gonna be alright?" he asks, pointedly looking at Lincoln who's swaying unsteadily in front of the juke box.

"Go, go!" Liv rolls her eyes. "I'll make sure Linc gets home safely."

Charlie beams at her, the scar on his right cheek creasing upwards, "Alright, good night, Liv, and again, happy birthday."

For a moment, Liv watches them stumble happily around the mostly empty tables of the bar, her fondness for her mentor softening her face. She turns to Lincoln, and a slightly more intent expression crosses her face.

"Pick a song already and dance with me," she tells him.

"As you wish, birthday girl," he grins before jabbing a button. He bows to her with a clumsy flourish that turns into a lurch.

Liv catches him, scoffing at his theatrics, "You're drunk."

"I'm not," then tilting his head up, he smiles at the ceiling. "Okay, maybe a little."

She sighs softly and holds him a little closer, her cheek rests against his shoulder. They dance in companionable silence for a song and then another. Then she turns her head to look at him. His eyes are closed, but a smile plays on his lips. He looks peaceful. A crazy impulse to partake of his peace engulfs her. Liv reaches up and runs her fingers gently through the now less spiky hair behind his ears.

Lincoln opens his eyes and gazes into hers. "Olivia," he breathes out.

She can't remember the last time he'd called her that. And for sure, when he'd done so, it was in disapproval of something she'd done. He'd never ever spoken her name in that way either, or looked in her eyes with such hope and longing. Or maybe he had, but she had never taken the time to really notice. Until now.

Feet barely moving and lips so close to touching that Liv can feel the prickle of his unshaven jaw grazing hers, he tangles his fingers in her hair. Red hair. With a panicked exhalation, he is suddenly pushing himself away from her.

"No," he staggers back. "No. You're not- I can't- What about Frank?"

"This has nothing to do with Frank," Liv snaps, as disappointment, the intensity of which surprises even her, hits her unexpectedly. "This is about _her_."

"Of course it's about Frank," Lincoln gasps. "He is- You... You're getting married!"

"So if I wasn't getting married-"

"No!"

"So it _is_ about her!"

Lincoln rubs his head, suddenly wishing he is far, far away - in another universe, perhaps. "Yes. Okay, it is about her. She is- I am..."

"You're in love with her?" Lincoln looks away, and Liv sneers at him, hands on her hips. "You don't love her. You don't even know her."

"I do know her," he frowns.

"You think you do," she argues. "You know _me._"

"Liv," his eyes remain stubborn, but he softly pleads with her. "Enough."

After a seemingly interminable pause, Liv straightens. "Fine," she flicks her hair back and stalks past him.

"Hey, Liv, wait," Lincoln tries to reach for her, to stop her, "C'mon," but she flings his hand away from her. He follows nevertheless, as she grabs her jacket and bag. She waves money at the bartender and leaves it on the bar but doesn't wait for him to come over. Lincoln, intoxicated as he is, barely manages to keep up.

The door slams against his side as he chases her outside, intent on catching her and resolving this issue before either of them goes their separate ways. The cold air hits him and almost makes him lose his balance. He looks up to see her stagger to the side, but instead of falling, a tall man in dark clothing catches her. She drops her bag as the man bundles her into the gaping side of a black van. Then Lincoln feels a surge of electricity coursing through his body. He tastes vomit even as everything goes dark.

**It Is The Backbone Of Our Lives**

Head cocked to the side, Olivia wills herself to see better, but the treetops block most of the moonlight. She stops just beyond the elm, and everything is still and quiet. Had she imagined it? Was it another apparition?

A movement, barely discernible at the corner of her eyes, makes her instinctively tuck her head low. She avoids a quick swipe at her head. Finding the general location of her assailant, Olivia takes a quick step to the side and wraps her arms around the shapeshifter. Unless it isn't alone, it had changed form and is no longer wearing Nadine's much more petite body.

She feels strong hands grip her shoulders right before it forcibly pushes her away. Olivia staggers back, her riding boots making her slip and slide on the fall leaves carpeting the ground. She hears its approach as she loses her balance. She pretends to groan in pain, but as it comes within reach, Olivia kicks at its legs as hard as she can. She hears it grunt as it falls toward her. Rolling quickly to the side to avoid getting crushed, Olivia then rolls back and crawls onto its momentarily prone form.

She gets two punches in before someone yanks her hair back. The nuzzle of a gun is cold against her temple.

"Easy. Easy now," a soft, cultured voice whispers in her ear. "We don't want anyone to get hurt, do we?"

"I would like to do much more than hurt you," Olivia snarls.

Soft laughter, only slightly mocking, "And yet you will do no such thing - at least not tonight."

The shapeshifter struggles from under her, while the unknown man keeps her on her knees. Then a second or so later, she feels herself being cuffed. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"The specifics of who I am are unimportant at this present time. But as to what I want," he leans closer to her again, gloved hand gently stroking her hair. "Why, my dear Agent Dunham, I simply wish to have a little chat with you, nothing more."

Olivia suppresses a shudder, "And do you honestly think I am interested in 'chatting'-"

He hits her on the side of the head, just hard enough to momentarily stun her. She hears buzzing in her ear and misses his next words, "... Jacksonville?"

"What?" she asks dazedly.

"Don't play games with me, Olive," he walks around her. She can see his shape better now, but still the details are hidden by the darkness. "How far did you get in your training with Drs Bishop and Bell?"

"Not very far," Olivia is surprised into an honest answer at the unexpectedness of the question.

"A shame," the man sighs softly. "I heard you were the strongest in your group. Maybe in all of the trials. Tell me, since then, have you shown any unusual... Abilities?"

Olivia swallows, thinking of her recent universe-hopping. How much does he know, she wonders. The shapeshifter who attacked her in Harvard would have seen her disappear. "I... No," the slap when it comes knocks her to her side. Olivia feels blood oozing from her lip.

"I have less pleasant ways of finding the truth if you're going to insist on lying," he growls. Then he takes a deep breath. When he speaks again, his accented voice is back to being full of false cheer. "Well then, let's talk about Liberty Island."

The air seems to shift, and Olivia's breath gets caught in her throat. He hits her on the side of her head, and her ear buzzes in pain. "What?" she cocks her head to the side, confusion evident in her tone.

"Don't play games with me, Olive," he drawls warningly as he walks around her. Olivia's mouth drops open as he continues, "How far did you get in your training with Drs Bishop and Bell?"

"Not... Not very far," she whispers.

"A shame. I heard you were the strongest in your group - maybe in all of the trials," he leans toward her eagerly. "Tell me, since then, have you shown any unusual abilities?"

Through clenched teeth, Olivia lies, "No." He slaps her hard and she falls to her side. She quickly extends her legs and kicks at the shapeshifter who had been standing behind her, it doubles over. Then she's rolling toward the man. Lifting her head she bites his calf through his pants making him bellow in pain. Before he can kick her, Olivia rocks back onto her knees, and with her hands still cuffed behind her back, somehow manages to get her feet under her. As the man leans forward to clobber her with his gun, she surges to her feet, smacking her head painfully against his nose. He reels back, and she's running off back into the path, and the light.

Some minutes later, she is in the clubhouse surrounded by security and amazed bystanders. Olivia gets herself uncuffed. While waiting for the Center's doctor by whom the manager insists she gets examined, Olivia calls Broyles to report the incident. He reassures her that a team will shortly be on their way to search the surrounds of the Equestrian Center, but Olivia knows the man and his shapeshifter will be long gone by then.

"At least we know a few things about them now," Broyles calmly states.

Olivia shakes her head dejectedly, "Other than his voice, I don't have any other detail to identify him. As for the shapeshifter..."

"Dunham," Broyles sighs. "We now know two things that interest them."

"Me," she supplies.

"And Liberty Island," he adds. "What does that tell you?"

"That they're-" but he interrupts her as he receives a message.

When he gets back to her, his voice over the phone is grim and tired. "Dunham, how're you holding up, are you injured?"

"No, sir," she answers quickly, ignoring the pain on the side of her head and trying not to lick her cut lip.

"Get yourself checked out, and then go to the Bridge. I'm sending Agent Lee to meet you there."

"Sir, what-"

"You'll be briefed when you get there, Dunham," he sternly replies.

**And We Are Nothing Without It**

"Tell me about Liberty Island," the man smiles coldly at her.

"It used to be a great tourist destination," Liv shrugs insouciantly. "Until a Class Ten vortex opened up-"

He slaps her, again. She can feel blood oozing from her lip, and a cut across her cheekbone stings like crazy. "Lie to me again, and I will shoot him," he casually waves his gun at the still-unconscious Lincoln strapped onto a chair across from her.

Their earlier argument replays itself in her mind, and then the last three years of working together. What is she without him, without Charlie? She spends more time with them than she does with her mother, or even Frank. They are as much her family. She blinks back tears and clears her throat. Shaking her head, she looks beseechingly at the man in front of her, "Doctor, what- Why are you doing this?"


	12. Skirmish

**SKIRMISH**

**Preparation**

By the time her partner arrives via helicopter all the way from Boston, the Bridge is bustling with military personnel from both sides. Olivia ignores the controlled chaos and continues to stare at the twinkling lights of the other side's Twin Towers from one of the windows in an office just down the hall from Nina Sharp's. She hears Col. Broyles giving Lincoln and a few other arrivals a succinct briefing - one she'd already received earlier, being one of the first to arrive. She had also been assessed again, and then treated, by a medic from the other universe, so now there is no outward evidence of the bruises and cuts she sustained from her earlier encounter with the shapeshifter and its controller.

Olivia feels mostly numb. She circles the thought of Lincoln, and her alternate, being at the mercy of this new enemy - her gut tells her that the attack on her and their abduction are related - but is, at present, unable to formulate a theory to back up her instinct, or a plan of action. Instead, she stares at the vibrant lights of a city in a dying world about which, if not for a choice or another, she would never have known.

"Olivia," a gravelly voice calls to her from the doorway.

She shifts her glance to his reflection on the glass before turning, "Hey, Charlie. What's up?"

"Eh, you know," he says, ruefully gesturing at his banana bag infusion with a licorice. "I'm supposed to be on a day off. When we get them back, I swear it, all debts are paid."

An attempt at a smile produces a lopsided grimace that Olivia quickly shakes off, cocking her head to the side, "Any leads?"

"Farnsworth's come up with a dozen likely places they could've been taken. Nothing on satellites yet. Their tracking devices had been removed."

"He- They could be anywhere," frowning, she wraps her arms around herself. "They could be-"

"Woah, woah, hold up kiddo," Charlie walks over to her and forces her to look him in the eyes. "Don't get ahead of yourself. We're gonna get them back, okay? Okay?"

At her reluctant nod, he smiles grimly and offers her a piece of the red candy. Olivia automatically takes one.

**Prisoners**

The fast, gasping breaths of someone struggling in front of him seeps through Lincoln's returning consciousness. He tries to open his eyes, but there is only darkness. He turns his head painfully one way, then the other, and slowly realizes it's not so much darkness but a blindfold preventing him from seeing. He focuses on the labored breathing.

"Liv?" he croaks out. The taste in his mouth makes him retch, but his inability to reach up to his face makes him realize his arms, and legs are tied to a chair.

"Lincoln!" Liv frantically whispers, but he also hears the relief in her voice. "Shh, they can't know you're awake."

"Who are they?" he asks, tugging at his bonds. "Where are we?"

"Stop, stay still," he hears her trying to calm herself. "They took us, outside the bar. We're in some kind of warehouse, but I don't know where."

"What? How long ago?"

"I can't- A few hours? Longer maybe?" she replies, grunting softly while attempting once more to free herself.

"Why haven't Fringe Division found us yet?" after a pause, he answers his own question. "They took out our trackers."

"Quiet now. They're coming back," she hisses in warning before going still herself. He feels her fury without needing to see it.

**Search**

They go out in teams, Lincoln with Broyles to search around the area where Liv's tracker had been found, and Olivia and Charlie where Lincoln's had shown up on the map. Other agents are scouring the areas in between. According to Agent Farnsworth the likelihood of them being dead is still relatively low considering their knowledge regarding many classified information. But unable to shake the pessimism clouding her thoughts, Olivia numbly follows Charlie's lead, giving herself a flashback of the junior agent who'd been paired with the gruff, older man on her first few missions.

"How'd they even know about the trackers," he mutters, chewing his gum. "After we solve this there are going to be even more changes, you'll see. One minute we're patching holes in the universe, the next, we're crossing through them. And now you say these people have gotten their hands on tech that can make them anyone they want to be, down to the last gene - like there aren't already enough of each of us running around."

Olivia rubs her head, hoping a migraine isn't forthcoming. She looks at this Charlie sadly, not really sure what to say. Noticing her expression, he shakes his head before continuing. "I'm sorry. Liv told me. About your, um, version of me."

"I didn't understand then," Olivia looks out the window of the car at the lightening sky. "And I still don't understand now, why he had to die. Your Secretary thought we were monsters, out to destroy you, so he created these shapeshifters and sent them after us. But we... We didn't even know- and they killed Charlie. And we're no longer at war, in fact, we need to be at peace for both worlds to survive, and I know the Walter Bishop from my world is by no means innocent in all these, but yours killed Charlie. And now these modified, advanced versions of his creation have Lincoln and... and _her_."

Charlie sighs, "I guess for such smart men, they never thought to consider how much more their choices might affect the rest of us."

Olivia nods in agreement, "Until it's too late."

"Yeah, until it's time to make even crazier choices," he taps his ear cuff. "Francis," after a pause he shakes his head at Olivia's expectant look. "We just left the abandoned station on 18th, sir - nothing there but rats. We're on our way to meet with the team in Chelsea."

They drive in silence for the next little while, and Olivia can feel the numbness easing off. Impatience, anger, and definitely fear starts to flow through her system. Charlie gets a call from another team about suspicious activities at an abandoned part of the New York City Sanitation Department. He talks Olivia through accessing satellite data on his tablet as he turns them back around. And when she finds out that three different cars had entered the premises since midnight and hadn't left, Charlie guns the engine. It takes them fifteen long minutes to get there, too long for Olivia's failing temper, and she's out of the car barely a second after he'd stopped.

Broyles, Lincoln and a few other agents are already canvassing the surrounding area.

When Broyles sees them, he pulls out his gun. "We're going in," he points each team toward various areas of the decrepit building, "Priority one, we get Dunham and Lee out. Two, capture a perp. 'Ware the shapeshifters - they're faster and stronger than whatever they look like. On my signal, let's go."

On their first pass of the warehouse, they surprise a bunch of kids, or artists as they defiantly call themselves, who had been illegally painting on walls in the semidarkness before attempting to flee. Once caught, they are immediately taken to Fringe Division for questioning. After efficiently combing the warehouse and all its underground areas twice more for any evidence, Broyles is satisfied that they'd missed no detail.

Lincoln passes her a bottle of water, and she accepts gratefully. Off to the side, though still within hearing distance, Broyles discusses with Charlie their next move. Olivia is aware that each moment that passes is crucial, but they just had no leads at this point. Broyles moves away as he answers a call from the Secretary, and Charlie comes over to inform them that they will continue searching, street by street if need be. He curiously eyes Lincoln, and Olivia leaves them to discuss things. She misses the look of concern they both direct at her back.

The sun is rising. It's been a while since she'd been out in the field during sunrise. Olivia walks to the edge of the pier, and crouches low, staring absently across the water. The migraine she'd hoped would stay away now has her whole head in its grip. Her anger, and her fear for Lincoln, and even the other Olivia, is coursing faster through her veins now, pounding hard within her skull. She groans involuntarily. Suddenly she tastes metal in her mouth and then she's falling over the edge.

**Interrogation**

"You truly know so little about us?" the man wonders out loud. Then he continues contemptuously, "I'm not quite sure whether to be pleased or disappointed."

"You tell me something then," Liv sneers. "Which kind of monster are you, the real kind or one of those programmable things?"

He stares coldly at her for a moment, and then he smiles as he leans right up to her face. "The fact you haven't figured it out yet makes me wonder why we're even bothering to make an effort with _you_ when the other Olivia Dunham will more than likely suffice."

Behind him, she sees Lincoln's hand curl into a fist. Liv rolls her eyes, "Why _are_ you bothering with me? Go take her, I don't care."

"Of course you do," he leans back, smiling slyly. "It's her weakness, and it's yours too."

"No," she growls. "It's not. We are _nothing_ alike."

He pulls his gun out from its holster and points it at Lincoln. He grins at her, "So you won't mind if I shoot him?"

Liv turns cold. She glares at him in frustration, and fear. "What do you want?"

"I want to know what's happening on Liberty Island," he replies calmly.

"Nothi-" she is barely finished with the word before he pulls the trigger without looking in Lincoln's direction. "Research! Into the other side!" she yells frantically.

The shot had missed Lincoln, she realizes, but the man continues to aim his gun at him. He cocks his head to the side, considering, then nods, "Go on."

"I'm just an agent, I don't kn-" he pulls the trigger again, and Liv closes her eyes. "I- It's research into crossing over-"

"Liv, don't tell him anything!" Lincoln shouts at her. Before he can say anything else, a fist hits his jaw hard enough to make his chair tip over. Off to his left, what sounds like a metal tray crashes to the floor.

"Lincoln!"

"One more chance, Agent Dunham, the next one hits him in the head," he snaps.

"They're looking for ways to cross over without tearing further holes between the universes."

"'They', as in the two Bishops?"

Liv nods her head, she notices Lincoln's blindfold had slipped a little, and he's craning his head around to see as much of their surroundings as he can.

"And how far have they gotten?" he questions immediately.

"Liv, no..."

"They're close," she growls helplessly.

"I will see for myself. You're going to get me on the island," he states. As she begins to protest, he fires another shot that hits the fallen man behind him on the thigh. Lincoln howls in pain, and she realizes she's also screaming. When they both quieten down, the man repeats, "One way or another you will get me on that island. You best think of a way to do it while I step out for a moment."

He waves a man in and orders him to bandage Lincoln's thigh. At the door he tells another to watch them both, and to kill Lincoln if she does anything suspicious.

**Find**

The shock of the cold water drives Olivia into herself, and because she doesn't fight it, she sinks quickly. Two more bodies hurtle into the frigid water, but it doesn't even register with her. Eventually, the cold recedes as she feels warmth, increasing in intensity, spreading from her chest to her limbs. Olivia opens her eyes and the watery gloom shifts into the dim glow of a yellow light bulb. She gasps for air.

"What the-" a man hovering over a figure tied to a chair exclaims as a cold rush of water hits him.

Another gasp from behind her makes her quickly turn around. The two Dunhams stare at each other in shock, "Oh, okay. I don't mind your trick so much, after all."

"What... What's going on?" Lincoln groans.

"Watch out," Liv jerks her head toward the doorway.

Olivia quickly gets to her feet taking care not to slip on the large puddle on the floor. The man at the doorway takes a step forward and looks around in confusion. This gives Olivia time to reach for her gun, then even as he points his weapon at her, she shoots him in the head.

Someone tackles her from the side and she crashes against Liv's chair, toppling them all to the ground. Before he can lay his hands on her, Olivia furiously hits him with the butt of her gun, then she knees him in the groin. She rolls with him, ending up straddling him. Without a second thought she slams her fist down into his throat.

"Untie me," Liv hurriedly says. "Someone would've heard that shot."

"Olivia?" head tilted awkwardly, Lincoln peers at her incredulously from where his blindfold had ridden up his forehead. "Wha- How did you get here?"

"Later-"

"Later-" Liv smirks. And then rolling her eyes, she nods pointedly at the door, "You two can catch up later, let's get out of here first."

Olivia uses one of the scalpels on the floor by a metal tray to cut through the ties holding Liv's arms. And then she passes her gun to her counterpart and crouches low to cut through her leg ties. Behind her the door crashes open. Liv fires three times in rapid succession, three bodies hit the floor.

Olivia quickly works on freeing Lincoln. She purses her lips at the gunshot wound on his right leg, and then while she's tying the blindfold above the oozing wound, they hear voices running down the hallway toward them. Olivia grabs the gun tucked in the waistband of the man whose throat she'd crushed.

Liv curses, "They're coming. Linc, can you walk?"

"I don't know," he grits his teeth as Olivia helps him up. "But I don't have a choice, do I?"

Liv leads them to the doorway, dispatching two more of their captors as they run heedlessly into the room.

"Surely there can't be more of them," Olivia comments, looking up worriedly at Lincoln. She sighs, "Lincoln, are we going too fast?"

"We can never go too fast," he winks at her. Ahead of them, Liv coughs a little. He goes on reassuringly, "And trust me, I'll be good to dance in no time. We've got _your_ birthday to celebrate."

A long burst of gunfire from the hallway makes them all crouch down. Lincoln's breathing comes in quick short puffs as he attempts to ride the pain from the sudden movement. Liv turns to them and shakes her head, indicating there are too many out in the hall for them to manage.

**Destroy**

The door is their only exit. After all the effort so far, they remain trapped. Olivia's vision darkens, and the fire in her veins and the pounding in her head returns. She swallows hard, and leans into Lincoln's side, for a moment taking as much comfort and support as giving it. A voice, oddly familiar, orders the rest of the kidnappers to enter the room.

Olivia cries out, making Liv turn. She focuses on her alternate's eyes - so much like her own, her jaw clenches with the effort of holding everything in. Lincoln starts yelling something at her, something about burning. Three men run into the room, guns blazing, and the echo of voices behind them promises more. Olivia lets her control go. And there's fire. Everywhere.

A couple of blocks away, Lincoln and Charlie are wrapping themselves up with emergency blankets while Broyles is calling for medics and emergency divers to the scene. When a flash of light and the rumble of an explosion reaches them from what had been a hotel undergoing renovation across the street, Charlie and Lincoln glance at each other briefly before sprinting for the nearest car.

"It's her," Lincoln tells Broyles emphatically as he passes him. "It's Olivia."

"It's gotta be her, sir," Charlie also calls out to him. "And it looks like we're gonna need the fire brigade too."


	13. Overcoming The Curve Balls

**OVERCOMING THE CURVE BALLS**

**Who Wins This Round?**

Charlie impatiently glares at the fire marshal's back. It had taken five minutes for the FDNY to get to the scene, another twenty to completely put out the fire, and an hour later, Fringe Division is still waiting for the fire marshal and her team to get their collective asses sorted out and finish their initial assessment of the site and to make a decision on the need for an actual _criminal_ investigation. Even Col. Broyles could not persuade the woman to let them in, and so he had eventually left a message with the Secretary's office. He is yet to receive a call back.

"Sir, this is taking too long. If they're down there-" Charlie cuts himself off as Broyles coldly glares at him.

"I know this, Agent Francis, believe me. But unless you can find another way in with more secure footing, the marshal isn't going to let our agents in," he shakes his head and sighs resignedly. "She may not, even then."

"Sir, from the city plan, there are sewers right underneath the hotel," a junior agent nervously bites her lip, not sure whether to direct her idea at Broyles or Charlie. "Maybe we can make a hole-"

"Good suggestion, Agent Porter," hands on his hips, Broyles gazes grimly at the still-smoking building. "But, as much as I want to, we're not blowing any holes anywhere right now."

Leaning back against the metal fence of a car park across the street from the boarded-up hotel, Charlie doses himself with his anti-arachnid-growth serum. In his frustration, he pushes the pen onto his skin harder than usual and the needle digs deeper than necessary. He mutters a curse to himself.

Lincoln briefly tears his eyes from an airship passing overhead and nods at the silver pen. "What's that?"

"He doesn't like to mention it, but Charlie's got worms," croaks a tired voice by Lincoln's feet.

Startled, Lincoln jumps to the side before exclaiming, "Olivia!"

"Liv!" Charlie echoes. He drops down to his knees and he and Lincoln help shift the heavy manhole cover. "How'd you- What are you doing down there?"

"Is Olivia with you?" Lincoln quickly asks.

"She's here, she's... Passed out," Liv gestures down to the bottom of the sewer. "And Lincoln was shot, he- they both need to get to a hospital."

"Medic!" Broyles yells down the street to a group of emergency service personnel leaning against their trucks. "We need medics down here, hurry!"

Charlie helps her climb out though she is initially reluctant to leave her two companions. Liv has dirty tear tracks down her cheeks, a cut lip and some facial bruising, her shirt has small burnt holes on the right side and the back, and her trousers and shoes are soaking wet, but otherwise she appears mostly unharmed. Charlie releases a small sigh of relief. "Who took you? Are they still down there?"

"No," she coughs. "Not exactly, but I didn't see, I dunno, she made fi-"

"Enough," Broyles softly stops her, pointedly watching the fire marshal as she walks over. "Debrief later. Agent Lee, get down there."

Lincoln secures his glasses and checks his firearm and flashlight, then with a quick nod to Charlie and Broyles he's hurriedly climbing down the shaft. The other agents crowd around Liv and Charlie, before mobilizing themselves into more practical action - procuring ropes and overhead lights. Some automatically stand guard and another handful prepare for the investigation that's sure to follow.

**Rescuing The Rescuer**

Lincoln finds them sitting on the damp ground near the entrance to the narrow sewer shaft. His counterpart's right leg is extended awkwardly, but it is the sight of him gently rocking and murmuring incomprehensible words to an unresponsive Olivia that makes Lincoln's heart plummet to his boots.

"Hey!" Lincoln runs up to them. "Hey, what happened? Is she alright? What's wrong?"

Linc looks up, his face wet with tears, "I dunno. She's- She was burning. She burned- She- Now she feels really cold," he sniffs, as he peers back down at Olivia. "She's not waking up. I can't wake her up."

Lincoln starts to reach over to her neck to feel for a pulse, but Linc protectively pulls her closer to himself, "I'm not- I just... She's my partner. I need to know if she's okay. If she's alive," they stare at each other warily until Linc finally loosens his hold on her. Her pulse rate is fast, and she does feel cold and clammy to touch. He squeezes her shoulder, but she doesn't respond at all.

"What should we do?" Linc whispers.

"The paramedics are coming, they'll help her. They'll help you," Linc brushes her hair from her face, and Lincoln sighs, shifting his glasses and looking away. "It's gonna be okay, you'll see. She's gonna pull through this."

Linc nods, grinning tearfully down at Olivia, "Like every other time right?"

"Right," Lincoln agrees, and then hearing voices coming toward them, he smiles too. "Here they come now."

**Congratulations, Everyone's A Twin**

In that expectant moment between two heart beats, Olivia opens her eyes to find herself staring back at her.

"You are full of tricks," Liv comments wryly. She's standing by Olivia's hospital bed, legs slightly apart and hands clasped pensively behind her. "And to think I once thought your photographic memory was the most interesting thing about you."

"Huh. Really?" Olivia looks around at the now familiar hospital room on the other side - green walls, glass sliding door, plastic chairs in the corner, and monitors and machines blinking and beeping over and by her bed. "You mean other than the fact you have my face?"

"No," Liv smirks. "_You_ have _my_ face."

Olivia rolls her eyes. Then she abruptly sits up, dangerously close to pulling out infusion lines from her arm, "Where's Lincoln?"

"Which one?" as Olivia weakly attempts to get out of bed, Liv pushes her back down, glaring fiercely at her. "Stop it. That's my blood flowing into your arm. Don't even think about wasting a drop of it. As for _my_ partner, he's in recovery after his surgery. Leg's gonna be alright - not even a limp, the doc says. He's probably still asleep more from a hangover than anything else."

"And my partner?" Olivia closes her eyes in relief.

"He's with Charlie, probably still crawling around the sewers under that hotel," Liv grins. "Those two are getting on like a house on fire..."

Olivia's eyes snap open. "Fire..."

"Yes, about that. How'd you do it?" Liv's eyebrows disappear under her red fringe. "And what else can you do?"

"I don't know. I don't remember," Olivia whispers, shaking her head. "I don't know."

"Is it why they want you so bad?" Liv turns and starts pacing at the foot of Olivia's bed, "Because he was asking an awful lot about you."

"No- I'm not sure," Olivia frowns. "Did they ask you about Liberty Island?"

Liv nods, unconsciously waving her hands as she voices her theory out loud. "Yes, he did. He wanted to know what was happening there. When I told him - he was threatening to shoot Lincoln - that they were researching ways to cross over, he was very interested in knowing about it, but he didn't seem surprised. He wanted me to get him on the Island, past security. I think that's what they're really after, a way to crossover."

"A doorway," Olivia clenches her fists, as she recalls someone, in the distant past maybe, referring to her as that. Was it Walter? After a moment, a machine next to her starts alarming. "They asked me about it too. On my side."

"I heard," Liv walks over and peers at the machine. "Best birthday ever, huh?"

"Where's my gun?"

"What?" Liv gives her a genuinely amused smile. "You wanna shoot this thing?"

But Olivia simply points out the door. Liv stiffens when she sees who it is. She yanks a drawer open and hands Olivia her weapon, then she scurries to the wall by the door, easing her own gun from its holster.

Just outside the door and still wearing surgical scrubs, the doctor finishes talking to a nurse who then hurriedly walks away with an armful of files. He strolls into the room, head bent over his tablet. "Agent Dunham," he drawls. "I see you couldn't stay away. What brings you back again this time?"

"Why don't you tell me, you son of a-" Olivia snarls, shakily aiming her gun at his face. Behind him, Liv quietly hits the button that slides the door shut.

"Hey, wait," he automatically raises his hands up by his head in surrender, icy blue eyes flashing in surprise. "What- Okay, I-I can tell you, but there truly is no need for the gun."

"Oh, really?" Liv walks up to him, the barrel of her gun cold against the nape of his neck. She takes the tablet from his upraised hand and briefly glances at Olivia's blood results before tossing it onto the bed. "We beg to differ."

"What the-" he jerks his head to the side, but stops immediately when he sees Liv with her weapon. "What is this? Wait. Twins? I knew it! I knew there was something curious about your previous scans."

The two Dunhams exchange a glance, and then Olivia snaps, "Enough with the games, doctor. Who are you?"

Liv adds, "And who do you work for?"

"Ladies," he protests, and then eyes narrowing, he corrects himself, "Agents? Anyway, look - I don't know what you're talking about. I am a doctor, as you well know, and I work for this hospital. I have treated you - both, I now believe - in the last few weeks."

"Where were you last night?"

"I don't see the significance of that question," he replies coldly, until Liv's free hand curls warningly into a fist and Olivia cocks her gun at him with a steadier arm. "I was here, working. I was in surgery all night, with a number of doctors and nurses, any of whom can verify my whereabouts, and a patient who is alive today because of my efforts."

Liv snorts, but Olivia simply frowns. She leans back against the headboard, absently reaching over to turn the still-alarming machine off, and shakes her head slowly at Liv. "If it's not him, then..."

"It's the other."

"Now, what is this really about? Should I order each of you another scan?"

"Doctor, be so kind as to leave us with the names of those who were with you in surgery last night," Liv gives him one of her best professional smiles. "And be sure not to leave town over the next few days. Fringe Division will be in touch. You may go."

"_I_ may go?" he splutters. "Might I remind you that I am here to check on a patient?"

"She's fine."

"I'm fine."

Outnumbered, he gives in after several long seconds of trying to out-stare two Dunhams. He eventually sighs and with a disapproving scowl collects his tablet. "Nurse Burke at the desk will give you a list of those in surgery with me last night," he says over his shoulder as he walks to the door. Then as it slides open, he sneers, "But do try not to use a gun when you ask. I'm sure she'll be amenable to the request with a simple smile and a 'please'."

"Yes, thank you," Olivia says distractedly, while Liv takes a few threatening steps toward the door. She swings her legs over the side of the bed. "Help me with this, will you. Then show me where Lincoln is. I have to see him before I go."

"You're not waiting for Agent Prince Charming to wake up?"

"I can't. I have to get back to my side. I need to talk to Broyles."

**On Home Turf**

Reporting to Agent Broyles had taken more than a couple of hours, and then she and Lincoln were finally able to go home for a real and proper rest. Broyles had wanted her to get checked up again, but Olivia had refused, sleep was all she needed, she reassured him. So he let her go with nothing but a sigh and a concerned nod. He contemplated calling Nina Sharp about her ward.

When she got home, Olivia had showered quickly and was in bed asleep despite initially thinking she might not be able to stop worrying about the shapeshifters and their agenda, and Lincoln, and Walter and the man who claims to be his son.

It was no surprise to her that her dream consisted of the three, in a darkened park somewhere with a broken-down swing set. Maybe it was less a dream and more a nightmare as Olivia was quite relieved when Walter woke her up with a phone call in the early hours of the morning.

"Agent Dunham," he'd asked eagerly. "Would you care to come to the lab and join Agent Tim and me in a game of Monopoly?"

"Walter, it's four o'clock in the morning," she'd softly reminded him. "Have you slept yet?"

"My sleep crawls with nightmares, Agent Dunham. So I'd rather not."

"You and me both, Walter," she'd told him gently. "I'll try to come by early."

It is almost five and Olivia is just about to fall back to sleep when her phone rings again. "Dunham," she sleepily answers.

"Agent Dunham," Broyles says. "You're awake?"

"Walter called," she smiles. "What's up?"

"More time slips. Some kids had just been taken to the hospital after the ramp they were skating on disappeared. It reappeared just under an hour later."

"You want me to talk to them?"

"No," Broyles sounds tired, and Olivia can almost imagine him wearily rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "I want you to pick up Bishop - the younger one - and take him to Massive Dynamic. If Dr Bishop won't examine him, they can. These time anomalies have got to have something to do with his appearance, and we need to put a stop to it. Now. Nina Sharp has instructed one of the doctors there to meet you."


End file.
